Tales From Another Broken Home
by PerfectDisaster22
Summary: You know the story. St. Jimmy received Ashurian magic, and consequently went insane. But do you know why he sought the magic in the first place? Did you know he was trying to protect his little sister? You know the story... now learn the truth.
1. I'll Tell You The Truth

**Author's Note**: Okay. So a very long time ago, before I entered the world of fanfiction, I ran across this quizilla author named psychogreendayfan. She was the author of this brilliant series fondly known as the Cara Saga. Eventually, this author became known to me as Sara, and with her encouragement I began posting my own fanfics. In the midst of planning world domination and squeeee-ing over _American Idiot_, she wrote me into the 6th installment of the Cara Saga [and later included me in the prequel]. In the course of the 6th part, _Waste With Me Into Nothing_, Sara mentioned that Billie had met my character [cleverly named Roxie... shocking? Yes.] when they were both teenagers, but had forgotten what he did to her. With Sara's full encouragement, I took that idea and ran with it. It became this story, which I posted on quizilla as a spin-off to her saga. And now I'm posting it here [slightly edited to account for the maturation of my writing style], just because I can.

**Chapter Note**: This chapter's really, _really_ short. It's just an introduction, coz I seem to be inordinately fond of those. But as I plan on posting these chapters really quickly, hopefully you won't be too mad at me?

**Disclaimer**: The world that Sara and I created around these characters is not realistic at _all_. Many of our characters possess magical powers, we completely ignore the rules of physics [our favorite thing to do is kill characters and then bring them back five minutes later], and our world faces the Apocalypse on an almost daily basis. If that's not your cup of tea, you might not like this story.

**Disclaimer a deux**: I don't own Billie, Mike, or Tre. I don't own Jimmy [he belongs to Green Day] or Anyanka or Cara [they're Sara's] or any other characters I might mention. I do own Roxie and Shanks, and a couple other characters I think. It's just a fanfiction, don't sue me!

* * *

Let's play a little game of word association, shall we? I'll list off four names, and you tell me the first few words that come to mind.

Billie Joe Armstrong.

Mike Dirnt.

Tre Cool.

St. Jimmy.

Very likely, your thoughts for Billie Joe were along the lines of "gorgeous, musician, charming, cocky, adorable". When I said Mike, you probably thought of "sane, intelligent, handome, chivalrous, bass". Tre was associated with "insane, hilarious, drummer, One-Nut Wonder, Very Cool". And St. Jimmy brought up words like "bastard, insane, suicidal, American Idiot".

My associations for those names are a little different.

Billie Joe Armstrong= Pothead. Dangerous. Bastard. Enemy.

Mike Dirnt= Coward. Weak. Pathetic.

Tre Cool= Coward. Fades into the background. Useless.

St. Jimmy= Best friend. Protective. Strong. Brother.

I know what you think about St. Jimmy. I've heard it all before. I've heard what you know of his story, and to be honest I find it lacking. You never hear that Jimmy Blake's fall from grace came not from a desire for power (at the start), but from a desire for revenge against those who hurt what was dear to him. You aren't told about the environment that turned Jimmy into what you love to hate. Nobody knows the true, full story of James Eugene O'Connell.

Nobody except me.

I'm the character nobody hears about when the story of St. Jimmy comes up, because nobody knows that it was because of me that Jimmy fell. Nobody knows that the reason Jimmy sought power in the first place was so that he could protect me from Billie Joe Armstrong, Mike Dirnt, and Tre Cool.

Nobody knows that all Jimmy was trying to do (at first) was defend his little sister.

My name is Roxie O'Connell. And this is the story of my brother and me.

It's not what you're used to. But it's the truth.


	2. A Day in a Saint's Life

**Author's Note**: Welcome to the first real chapter of Tales! I admit that not a lot happens in this chapter; basically it just sets up the environment of the story for you, lets you see J and Rox's personalities, and covers some exposition. I do hope you enjoy!

* * *

"Rox. Roxie. Roxie!" came an insistent whisper.

I groaned sleepily as someone shook me gently, muttering my name. I didn't want to wake up. I was having a good dream. There was a black-haired, green-eyed guy onstage, singing a love song he'd written for me… _If I lose everything in the fire, I'm giving all my love to you_… I wanted to hear him sing to me for a while longer.

"Roxie, c'mon, wake up!"

I sighed and opened my eyes to see the pale, angular face of my older brother looming over me. I jumped at seeing him so close, then groaned softly and rolled over so I could see him better.

"Jesus, Jimmy. You hovering like that is like someout out of a horror movie, you know that? Whaddyou want?" I asked, yawning.  
"I want you to get up and ready so we can get out of here before he wakes up," Jimmy replied.

I glanced at the clock- 6:30 am- and nodded. I braced myself for the cold as I threw off my comforter and sheets, shivering slightly as the frigid air hit me. I straightened my boxer shorts as I stood, then grabbed some clothes and walked into the bathroom, leaving Jimmy to collect my stuff for me.

I sighed to myself as I pulled on my jeans and black The Clash t-shirt, shoved my feet into my red chucks, braided my hair, and lined my eyes. I hated our morning routine. Jimmy and I had to get out of the house before 7, when our bastard of a stepfather, Brad, woke up, or else we'd likely fall victim to his form of "affection". We'd both sustained enough bruises, cuts, and broken bones to last us for a lifetime, thank you. Why the hell had Mom married him, again? Oh, right. Because he was her drug dealer. We couldn't expect any help from her, then.

Jimmy tossed me his jacket as he picked up my backpack and led me to his beat-up old Mustang. I pulled the jacket on, shrugging into the comfortable leather that smelled like his cologne and pot. We walked silently out of the house, not talking until he'd pulled out into the street and we were headed for the 7/11.

"One of these days," he muttered. "One of these days, Rox, I'm gonna get us out of here. We won't have to deal with Brad… or Mom… or any of this shit. We'll be free. And it'll be great."

I smiled to myself as Jimmy painted our future for us. He was a dreamer, always had been. But the thing about St. Jimmy was that he could make his dreams come true.

I stayed in the car as Jimmy ran into the 7/11 to get us some food. I drew my legs up against my chest and rested my chin on my knees, wrapping my arms around my legs in an attempt to keep warm. It was now 6:45. We'd be cruising around town for another 45 minutes, at least, before Jimmy drove me to school.

I found it strange that Jimmy was the one who took care of me. He was notorious on both sides of the Bay- both the East Side, known as Suburbia, and the West Side, where we lived, known as Strangeland- as THE best dealer, the lord of the Streets. If you wanted a fix, you came to him. And he spent the money he earned on me, making sure that I was okay. I was the only thing he cared about in the world, and the reverse was true for me. J was all I had, and I loved him.

Jimmy re-entered the car and handed me a box of Poptarts and a turkey and swiss sandwich.

"Bon apetite," he grinned as I opened the Poptarts and handed him a package.

He drove us to Tight Wad Hill as we ate. I glanced at him; he normally didn't bring me with him when he was working. He preferred if I didn't interact with his customers, for reasons I didn't know. All he'd ever say was that he didn't want me to get hurt.

A chorus of "St. Jimmy!" hit us as we reached the top of the hill. About half a dozen people were there, toking up or just standing there. They all rushed for Jimmy.

"Who's the ho, J?" one of the sleazier guys asked.

Cue J snapping. His eyes blazed with anger as he punched the guy, knocking him flat on the back. He placed a foot on the poor idiot's chest and leered down at him.

"The 'ho' is my sister, Sobrante," he sneered. "And if you ever want any of my shit again, you'd do well not to insult her. Got it?"

Sobrante nodded, gasping for breath. Jimmy nodded and walked away, shooting him a disgusted glance. Everyone else gulped nervously and avoided so much as glancing at me. I rolled my eyes; one of the hazards (or was it a blessing?) of being Jimmy's sister was that anybody who knew him avoided me like the plague. Jimmy's temper was legendary, and nobody wanted to be on the receiving end of it.

When J had finished his business, he draped an arm around my shoulders and led me down the hill back to the car. He glanced at the clock as he started the car; 7:45.

I groaned. "I don't wanna go."  
Jimmy smirked. "Aw, come on Rox. It's only school."  
I shot J a glance. "Why did you get to drop out, but I can't?"  
"Because I'm a loser," J replied. "You… you're gonna get out of here, Rox. But you gotta have a diploma to do it."  
"You're sounding like Dad again," I grumbled, folding my arms.  
Jimmy sighed as he pulled up to my high school. "He's going to work early tonight. So if you're good I'll bring you to Gilman, alright?"

I nodded, grinning. Jimmy smiled- a real smile, for once- and drove off, leaving me to go inside and face my own personal hell.

I don't know if there's a place I hated more than school. The people who knew my brother either treated me like some sort of saint, or avoided me completely. But everyone else… it seemed to be their mission in life to torment me. This was one thing I would never share with Jimmy; the teasing I got at school. They teased me for the music I listened to, for being poor, for my family situation. The stupid people even teased me about my "deadbeat" brother.

For some people with my family situation, school is a safe haven, a place they can escape to. For me, it was worse than home was. I dreamed for graduation… but that was a long, long time off. Two and a half years, to be exact. But I had to put up with it; there was no way in hell that J would let me drop out.

"So how was it?" Jimmy asked as he picked me up. I shot him an evil glare, and he chuckled. "Okay, okay, stupid question. Sorry," he grinned.  
"You should be sorry for making me go to that hellhole," I muttered.  
Jimmy shrugged. "It's better than home. Or the streets."  
"I guess," I said.  
Jimmy nodded. "Exactly. Now, cheer up. We're going to Gilman tonight… and the other side of the Bay today."  
"Why are we going over to Suburbia?" I asked, surprised.

Jimmy's jaw tightened a little bit. I nodded, instantly understanding. Brad had come home early… and he was drunk.

"He didn't hit you, did he?" I asked, turning to look at him.  
"Nah, I got out before he got that far," Jimmy said.  
I sighed. "But he yelled at you."  
"I can take it, Rox," Jimmy said, smirking. "It's not like words can hurt."  
"Words can scar deeper than physical attacks," I replied.  
"Yeah, yeah, whatever. Jesus Christ you're emo."  
I shrugged. "Okay, so I'm a melodramatic fool. Call me pathetic, call me what you will. I don't care, woo woo woo."

Jimmy snickered as we drove through the streets towards the East Side. It was the nicer half of the Bay… not that that was saying much. After all, northern California isn't exactly the rich half of the state. But at least Suburbia had decently upkept homes, some sidewalks, clean-ish streets…

J parked his car in an underground lot, and then we wandered through the streets for a while. He led me through town, bringing me into coffeeshops and music stores, and anything else that struck our fancy. He bought me something at every place we went (I told you, he used the money he got from dealing on me… I really need to get him a girlfriend). There was a time or two when he got stopped and he sold some drugs to people, but other than that we were undisturbed. It was just my brother and me. Just like it always should be.

When we got bored with walking around town, Jimmy led me into Gilman. He was here a lot more than I was, and greeted handfuls of people as he led me to a booth in the back.

"Stay here, okay?" he said. "I have to talk to a guy over there about bringing me a few kilos of weed. I'll be back in a bit. Here, buy yourself something to drink, okay?" he said, handing me a $20.

I nodded. J nodded back and moved off to have his talk. I leaned back into the booth and closed my eyes, tuning out the world. There was some band playing… Green Day, I think they said their name was? Eh, they were alright… nothing amazing. Just a bunch of Bay rejects, like we all were. They wouldn't get out of here; none of us could. We were stuck here… stuck in Suburbia… stuck in Strangeland…

That was the tragic case of our reality. This was our screwed-up life. We were all going to waste into nothing.

Welcome to Paradise.


	3. A Chance Encounter with Violence

**Author's Note**: This chapter contains a POV that I took pretty much verbatim from Sara. It's one of three flashbacks she wrote into the 6th part of the Cara Saga to justify my character's presence in the story. These flashbacks are the whole reason this story got written; to flesh out that storyline [and to give me an excuse for gratuitous angst, but that's another story]. I hope you enjoy the meeting of the two main characters!

* * *

I knew it was going to be a bad day as soon as I woke up. First of all, it was late. My alarm hadn't gone off, so here it was 7:00 and I was still in bed. Second, there was loud arguing coming from downstairs. Jimmy and Brad were screaming at each other. I winced as I dressed; if I didn't get him out of here soon, either Jimmy or Brad would end up bloodied and bruised.

When I got downstairs, I found Jimmy lying on the floor by the wall, panting, while Brad smirked down upon him.

"You are nothing but a tragic waste of skin," Brad spat down on Jimmy. "You are nothing. You were a fucking mistake."  
"You don't know what the hell you're talking about, Brad," I said loudly, planting my feet and preparing for a fight.

Jimmy's head shot up, his eyes wide. He shook his head frantically at me as Brad slowly turned around.

"Well well, if it isn't the resident drama queen," Brad sneered. "Looking for trouble?"

I swallowed, trying to ignore my nerves. I couldn't let the bastard see me scared, I couldn't… I glanced at the couch, to see my mother, Adrienne, smoking a crack pipe and getting out tablets of extacy. Well, she wouldn't be any help, then. Firey anger crackled through my veins; shouldn't her concern be for her children, how they were being abused before her eyes? But no, her only care was for her drugs. I felt all the familial bonds falling away. The woman was nothing to me, now and forever. I looked back to Brad, my mental emancipation filling me with [a likely empty] confidence.

"Leave him alone, Brad," I said, folding my arms.  
"And who's gonna make me, you little whore? You?" Brad laughed.  
"If I have to," I replied.

Whilst Brad and I talked, Jimmy forced himself up off the ground and grabbed his keys. Then he grabbed an empty bottle and smashed it into Brad's head. Mom glared at us as we left; well, as much as she could whilst being insanely high, that is.

"You are a fucking idiot," Jimmy said as we got into the car.  
"I got us out, didn't I?" I asked.  
"Roxanne Grace O'Connell, don't ever do that again, do you hear me?" Jimmy said, sounding exactly like our father. "I can take whatever Brad does to me. I don't want you getting hurt."  
"And you seriously think I'm going to stand there and let him hit you? James Eugene O'Connell, you must be insane!" I retorted.

Jimmy winced as I said his full name. I smirked; payback's a bitch. He should've known better than to use my full name.

He sighed. "Just promise me you won't do it again?"  
"No," I said. "Because if he does that to you again, I'm gonna stop him."  
"You're too much like me," he muttered.  
"Well duh. Who's the one that basically raised me?"  
"So you're saying this is all my fault?"  
"Pretty much, yeah."  
"I can't win with you, can I?"  
"Never."

* * *

Billie's POV  
I slouched down on the couch, joint in hand. I took a deep drag, then passed it to Tre, an operation made all the more difficult by the fact that he was trying to stick himself to the ceiling. I glanced up at the ceiling as I slowly exhaled the smoke. Sweet, sweet drug-induced calm…

"We have a pretty ceiling," I commented.  
Mike laughed lazily. "You sound just like Cara."  
"She's right! It's a pretty ceiling, I love what they've done with it," I protested, though grinning at the mention of my girlfriend. "We should name it!"  
"Cara named it Stanley," Mike said. "She said he liked it."  
I stared at the ceiling. "Our ceiling TALKS??? That's so fucking cool!!!"  
Mike rolled his eyes. "Whatever you say, Beej. Speaking of Cara… where is she?"  
"Probably out defying death again," Tre said, nodding knowledgeably.  
"Most likely," I nodded. "Dammit. Now I'm bored."

Mike shrieked and jumped up, looking around frantically. I yelped when he did, and Tre fell from the ceiling in shock. Or maybe because the tape stopped sticking. Either way, he fell to the floor.

"Jesus Christ! What the fuck, Mike?" I blinked.  
"The pot's all gone!!!!" Mike wailed.  
"Noooooooo!!!" I whined. "Now we gotta go get more! That was the last of my stash!"  
"Where?" Mike asked skeptically. "I haven't seen a single dealer this side of the Bay for weeks."  
"There's a guy on the other side of the Bay we could go to," I said, forcing my limbs into action. "He hangs out around the 7/11, and Shit Mountain. I don't know him all that well, but they say he's got the best shit in town."  
Mike nodded. "Let's go."  
"I'll drive!" Tre grinned lopsidedly.  
"No," Mike and I said together, snickering as Tre's face fell.  
"When the world goes to Hell, then we'll let you drive the bus," Mike said.  
Tre grinned. "Okay!! Let's go start the Apocalypse!"

* * *

Roxie's POV  
I wasn't having a good day.

Actually, that's the understatement of the fucking century.

I was having a really, really fucking bad day.

Apparently, it wasn't enough that I'd had a pop quiz first period. Or that my pen had exploded all over my shirt second period. Or that between fourth period and lunch I'd been surrounded by about six guys that owed Jimmy money, gotten beaten up, and had my lunch money stolen. Or that right after school, I had broken up with my boyfriend Shane (resulting in a hard slap across the face from him- more bruises to add to the collection).

No. Now I got this, too.

I leaned down to pick up my books, which had been ripped and torn apart several times in the past five minutes, when the three assholes standing above me had tipped my bookbag upside down, before punching me in the jaw. Luckily I'm related to my brother, so I have quite a high pain threshold. But still.

No sooner had the tip of my finger brushed my Chemistry book, did someone kick me hard in the ankle, and I collapsed to the ground, my face meeting sidewalk. One of the three guffawed appreciatively, and the other two simply stood, admiring their work.

I hadn't seen any of them before in my life, so why they had decided to turn on me was a mystery. I figured that either they too owed Jimmy money, and thought that by threatening me they'd get out of paying, or they must've been from the other side of the Bay, and were looking for something to do to kill some time. Why they couldn't just go to Christie Road instead of beating the crap out of me… now that was the question.

"Beej, c'mon, leave her alone."

Glancing upwards, I noticed the taller, dark-haired boy staring disdainfully at the guy to his left.

_Beej_ stared at him disbelievingly. "What the fuck, Mike?"

His hair was electric blue, clearly dyed, and his eyes were emerald, and glittered with malicious pride whenever he looked at me.

The one on Mike's other side was the shortest of the three, and was currently sporting a bright green fauxhawk. His eyes were a clear blue, and though his expression didn't mimic that of Beej's, he wasn't exactly trying to help me, either.

Mike bit his bottom lip, and cast me a concerned glance. "You're being a bastard. Just stop it, alright?"  
A split-second later, Mike was clutching his cheek. "I'll stop when I fucking feel like it, okay?"

Mike threw Beej a malevolent glare, but tactfully chose not to speak, sensing if he continued to defend me, he too would be bleeding upon the ground.

Beej nodded, and threw the other a piercing glare. "You have anything to say, Tre?"

I couldn't help it. I really shouldn't have, but I did.

I scoffed. "What the Hell kinda name is that?"

Before I knew what was going on, I had been wrenched to my feet, and thrown against the nearest wall, my arms behind my back, and Beej hissing into my ear.

"Do you have a problem with the name Tre?" He snarled.

I don't know when to keep my mouth shut, I really don't.

"Yeah, maybe I fucking do."

I couldn't see what he was doing, but the next thing I knew was that he had twisted my right arm, such so that the bone cracked, and I grimaced.

"What about now?" He demanded.  
"Billie, stop!" Tre yelped. "I don't care! A lot of people think it's a stupid-"  
Billie ignored him. "Well?"

Why do I never shut up until it's too late?

"It's still a fucking stupid name."

With a menacing growl, he cleanly snapped the bone in half, causing me to whimper, and threw me to the ground.

"And now?" He growled.

Finally, I decided I had pushed my luck just a little too far.

"It's a great name. Wonderful. I wish my mom had named me Tre."  
He smirked. "Better."  
"Billie Joe Armstrong!"

All three of them flinched at the sound of a clearly enraged voice, and approaching footsteps.

"You're in trouble." Mike muttered, his gaze firmly upon the ground.  
"Shut the fuck up," Billie snarled. He glanced upwards to the approaching figure. "Cara!" he exclaimed gleefully.

The footsteps ceased as Cara glanced down at me, before averting her gaze to Billie's incredibly bloodshot eyes.

"Oh, for fuck's sake."

She walked right up to me, and extended a hand, taking my left hand, and assisting me to my feet. I got my first look at her, then. She had long, ebony hair, and dark green eyes, which were currently switching emotions between immense anger and concern.

"Are you alright?" she asked me. I attempted a shrug, trying not to let on how fucking bad my arm hurt. She threw Billie a filthy glare. "He's stoned out of his fucking brain. He won't even remember this tomorrow. Do you have somewhere you can go?"  
"Yeah," I nodded, ignoring the pain in my arm. "My brother'll fix me up."  
"I'm so sorry about him," She glared at Billie again. "Don't worry, I'll kick the shit out of him."

She bid a quick farewell, making certain I was capable of walking, before grabbing Billie's ear (I couldn't help but snicker at that), and yanking him back in the direction of wherever it was they lived, Mike and Tre forlornly following. I stared after them for a moment, before deciding the sooner I got home, the sooner J could yell at me about not being careful enough. Completely abandoning my bookbag, I turned groggily around, and walked the short distance between my humble abode and my school.

The front door was already ajar, and I quickly passed through it, completely ignoring my almost comatose mom on the couch, and racing straight upstairs to my brother's room. I smiled faintly at the piece of paper he had taped to it, which read "Unless you're Roxie, fuck off" and knocked.

I heard him sigh. "Can't you read?"  
"It's me."

There was an immediate scuffle as he almost tripped over his desk chair in an effort to reach the door. When finally he tore it open, the expression on his face was the worst I had ever seen.

_How does he always know?_

Seemingly incapable of speech, he grabbed my good wrist, and pulled me inside, shoving me in the direction of his bed, and kicking the door closed behind him.

"What...happened?!" He demanded, his fists tightly clenched.  
I shrugged, attempting nonchalance. "Some assholes from the other side of the Bay."  
"Get their names?"

He wrenched open one of his drawers, took out two joints, throwing one to me, and a lighter.

"What's this for?"  
He quickly lit his, before tossing me the lighter. "It helps, trust me."

Without even thinking, I quickly lit it, and inhaled the smoke deeply, doing my utmost not to cough.

"Get their names?"  
I nodded."Billie, Mike and Tre." Despite how I attempted to restrain myself, I couldn't help coughing harshly several times, my eyes watering. "There was a girl too, but she helped me. She was really fucking pissed with Billie."  
He appeared thoughtful. "Don't think I've heard of them."  
"Other side of the Bay, I think."

We sat in silence, and only then did I realise that my mind had become so much more relaxed than it had been before. Even some of the pain was starting to fade, though my eyes itched like Hell. I could get used to this...


	4. Dual Views

**Author's Note**: This chapter is disgustingly short. However, I like it for the simple reason that you get POVs from the two most important guys in Roxie's life... who are total and complete mortal enemies. I really like their conflicting opinions of our fair heroine. Enjoy!

* * *

[Jimmy's POV]  
I watched watched Roxie warily as she lay on my bed, giggling.

"I like this stuff," she said, looking at her joint fondly.  
"Good," I nodded. "Feel better?"  
"Uh-huh," she nodded. "Thank you."  
I nodded, then grabbed a length of Ace bandage from my dresser. "Gimme your arm, I'll wrap it up for you."  
"Okie," she said dociley, holding out her broken arm.  
I winced as I wrapped it up. "Jesus, that bastard got you good, didn't he?" I asked, making a mental note to take her to get her arm set in a cast as soon as possible.  
She giggled. "I made him mad. I made fun of his friend's name. But come on, Tre is a stupid name!"  
I nodded. "Yes it is." I bit my lip. "Roxie… Tell me what happened, from the beginning."  
She shrugged. "I bumped into Billie. He took offense to me touching him."  
I stared at her, incredulous. "So he beat the crap out of you?!"

She nodded. I sighed.

"Then one of 'em… Mike… he told Billie to stop. But he said he wouldn't. Then I made fun of Tre's name, and he broke my arm," she said.  
I gritted my teeth. "That fucking bastard."

But before I had a chance to say anything else, she slumped over on my pillow, fast asleep. I sighed again and tucked her into bed, then leaned back and watched her sleep for a minute. I wished I had some other way to cure the pain she was in. But this was Strangeland. We didn't have anything to help us… just the drugs.

I bit my lip and glanced at my nightstand drawer. I knew there were a few syringes of Novacaine in there. That would definitely cure her pain… but was I willing to let her go through the crash, just to stop the pain for now? Was that the best option for her?

Goddammit… My little sister. The only member of my family that I actually liked… the only person I cared about… and I was completely unable to protect her from something like this.

And the worst part of all of this?

I'd seen it all happen. Before it happened.

See, I have these… powers. I don't know when I got them… and I can't use them very well. But one of these powers is being able to see what's happening to people… especially Roxie. I'd seen her getting beaten up by these assholes… but I hadn't done anything to try to stop it.

But how could I have known? If I acted on every vision I get, I would go insane. And I know I can't protect her from everything.

But… but why couldn't I have protected her from this? She's my little sister! Why can't I save her from being hurt?!?

That was it. I was gonna do whatever it took to get enough power to make this better for her. I was her brother, the only one she depended on. I had to save her.

I leaned down near her ear, smoothing her hair back. "Don't worry, Poppy," I whispered, using my old childhood nickname for her [poppies were once her favorite flower… I used to say it was because they were beautiful, but lethal… just like her]. "I'm gonna find the guy that did this to you… and I'm gonna do anything it takes to make him pay."

* * *

[Billie's POV]  
"You fucking asshole!!!" Kick, kick, punch. "How the fuck could you?!" Slap, kick, pull. "I don't care if you were high!! She was fucking unarmed, you bastard!!"

With one final kick, Cara spat on me and stormed inside, leaving me in the yard, bruised and bleeding. Fucking abusive girlfriend... god I love her. I rolled onto my side, despite how it hurt my broken ribs, and coughed harshly.

I had no idea why she was so pissed. I mean, okay yeah, maybe I shouldn't have beaten that girl up. But I hadn't hurt her that bad! I didn't know why she'd gotten as mad as she did. It wasn't like I'd raped her or anything…

I closed my eyes as my thoughts drifted back to her. Some people might have called her pretty… beautiful, even. Some romantic assholes might even call her gorgeous. Me? Meh, she was alright, I guess. Not my type.

The only thing I remembered clearly about her were her eyes. How they had flashed in defiance. I hadn't liked it. Nobody had acted like that around me for a long time. She had the same look in her eyes as my fucking stepfather… that look of not being scared at all, the detatched amusement… the look of superiority.

I wanted to knock that look out of her eyes. I wanted to break that defiance. What, did she think she was better than me? I was fucking Billie Joe Armstrong! The king of suburbia! I would show her…

If I'd known the consequences of my actions, would I still have done this? Had I known what force I was unleashing in Jimmy O'Connell, would I have hurt his sister the way I did?

But it was too late. The wheels were set. There was no stopping what was about to happen.


	5. Violence Under a Peaceful Sky

**Author's Note**: Another chapter, another episode of Rox getting beaten up. It seems to be an underlying theme of this story, which is really disturbing. This chapter contains another POV that I lifted from Sara. Should I be ashamed to admit that I'm the one who suggested this violent as hell relationship between Rox and Billie? Or that I was so very very amused when Sara wrote it out in part 6 of her saga? I'm so evil to my characters; no wonder they mutiny so often. Also, I love this chapter because it introduces one of my all-time favorite characters, Armatage Shanks. I think he's quite possibly the sweetest [and most badass] character I have ever come up with. Any time he enters one of my stories, I get really pathetically excited. Well, I hope you enjoy it!

* * *

Why can I never catch a break?

Seriously. You'd think that after having been beaten up twice in one day, one time resulting in my arm being broken, the Twinkie God would cut me some slack. But apparently he hates me. I'll just go ahead and blame my brother for that. Maybe it's not really his fault, but he's the nearest target. Besides, everything is always his fault anyways, it's a proven fact.

I was at the 7/11 early on a Saturday morning, a week after that asshole had broken my arm and Jimmy had taken me to get a cast put on [I tried to make it look cooler by making the doctor give me lime green bandages, but it still looked fucking stupid]. Jimmy had gone to the Land of Make Believe for the day, to replenish his store of drugs. Once he got home, he would spend the rest of the weekend in his room, refining and purifying the shit. So because he was gonna be busy, it was in my best interests to vacate the house and stay out of Brad's way.

On weekends like this, I usually took refuge at the 7/11 with people who worked for J (ha. EVERYBODY worked for J). I'd most often be found with Haushinka, Chump, Dookie, Emenius and Sleepus, and Armatage Shanks, J's right-hand man. I loved them like family. We looked out for each other; they would protect me from the low-lifes of the town, and I would take care of them when they (very frequently) got hurt.

"Jesus H. Christ, Rox, what happened to you?" A asked in alarm as I trudged over to the oil drum around which they were all huddled. "It wasn't Brad, was it?"  
"Nah," I said. "Some of this is from some shit I took at school… the fading bruise is from Shane… and the broken arm is from three guys who beat me up for the hell of it."  
"What?" A asked blankly.

Yeah, I guess it really wouldn't make sense for three guys to come up and randomly beat the hell out of me. I was well-known around here as "St. Jimmy's sister", and everyone knew that he who messed with me would answer to Jimmy.

"I don't think they were from around here," I shrugged. "I'd never seen them before."  
"Shit," A said sympathetically, draping an arm around my shoulders (cue a mild flurry of butterflies… oh leave me alone, A's hot). "So I'm guessing you need painkillers."  
"Shanks, knock it off," Haushinka said. "Like J would ever let you have 'Caine within 15 feet of his little princess here."  
"Hey hey hey, I was NOT suggesting Novacaine!" A said defensively. "I was referring to a little ex, that's all."  
"Since when is ex a painkiller?" Sleepus asked, eyebrows raised. "An aphrodisiac, maybe- ah. Now it makes sense," he smirked.  
A rolled his eyes. "Please, even I know better than to try to drug up the princess and rape her," he said.  
"Dear god, it DOES have a brain!" Emenius laughed.  
A rolled his eyes again. "Fuck off."

I spent all day going around with the gang. We'd hang out at the 7/11 for an hour before everyone split up to do a round of the town. Somehow, I always ended up with Shanks. We'd walk around for a couple of hours as he made deals, then return to the 7/11. It was a typical Saturday.

It was late, around 2 am, maybe. Most everyone was gone, either on a round or to go get food. I was sitting on the curb by myself, my knees under my chin and my eyes closed.

Bad idea.

From out of nowhere came a sharp CRACK across the back of my head. I groaned and slumped forwards, then forced myself to turn so I could see my attackers. I sighed heavily as I recognized them; they were three of the low-lifes that J dealt to. Not again…

"What do you assholes want?" I asked, pulling myself to my feet.

I shrugged my shoulders a bit, going into Streets mode. Jimmy may not like me to be around his business dealings, but that doesn't mean I don't know a good deal about how to handle customers. For some reason, people seem to come to me when they're pissed at my brother. So I've had to learn how to handle that. And I can do that, as long as whoever I'm dealing with doesn't get violent.

"Your brother thinks we owe him money," one of them said.  
"That's because you _do_ owe him," I said, folding my arms. "You've owed him for a month. He's losing patience."  
"Well, we're losing patience with him not giving us his shit," Thug 2 said.  
"All you have to do is pay him, and he'll give you what you want," I said, shrugging.  
"What if we don't feel like paying?" Thug 3 asked.  
"Then you're fucked," I said, turning and preparing to leave.

I hadn't taken two steps before I was whirled around and punched in the stomach. Fucking Christ, I hate it when druggies get violent. I moaned and fell to my knees, which is when I got kicked to the ground and all three of the gorillas started beating me up at once. I tried to lash out at them, but they only beat me worse. So I curled into a tiny ball and prayed for a savior.

Suddenly I heard a yell and felt one of them get thrown off of me. After a minute of hearing punches, screaming, and bodies hitting pavement, I felt a gentle hand on my shoulder, shaking me lightly.

"Rox. Roxie," they whispered, rubbing my arm. "Wake up, Rox."

I groaned and slowly opened my eyes to see Armatage looking over me, assessing the damage.

"Damn, they got you good, didn't they?" he asked lightly, though I could easily hear the anger behind his words.  
"A-" I started, but I was too weak to finish speaking.  
"Shh," he said, gathering me in his arms. "C'mon, Rox, I'll take you home."  
"Okay," I said in a little voice, laying my head on his shoulder.

* * *

[Billie's POV]  
I was lying on my bed, staring up at my ceiling, allowing thoughts to drift freely through my mind.

I mentally cursed myself. I was thinking about her again.

It had been a week since the events at Shit Mountain. Cara had kicked my ass for it. The expression she gave me whenever she looked at me was almost comical. She had been furious.

But I didn't care. As much as I loved Cara, and I did, I couldn't stop thinking about that girl. She had been a real smartass. I didn't know how she had the goddamn nerve to speak to me the way she did. Maybe that was why I liked her so much. Besides, what's a few broken bones between friends?

I smirked. I could still see her, clear as anything. Her large blue-purple eyes, lined with black eyeliner… her pretty face, mostly covered by her silky hair… the way she had finally been forced to submit to me.

As though following orders, I leapt from my bed, and hurriedly pulled on a pair of Converse, glancing simultaneously to the clock on my end table. 2:51 am. Not even bothering to tie my shoes, I opened my door, and tip-toed silently downstairs, troubling to remain as quiet as possible, so as not to awake anyone, or alert them to my plans.

I reached the foot of the stairs, and crossed the living room. No sooner had I rested my hand upon the doorhandle, did I almost jump out of my skin at a voice from behind me.

"What are you doing?"

I whipped around, determined not to allow any guilt to show on my face, and spotted Mike seated on the couch, a cup of coffee clenched in his left hand, and his eyebrows raised. At least it wasn't Cara.

"Going for a walk," I replied, casually shrugging. "Why, is that a crime now?"  
"You do know it's Graduation tomorrow?"  
"So?"

I didn't see why he was bothering. It was a miracle I hadn't been kicked out of school yet.

He seemed to read my mind, as he sighed heavily. "Have fun."

I couldn't help the smirk that crossed my features at that.

Bidding him a quick goodbye, I left the house, and took off for Shit Mountain at as quick a pace as I was capable of. Since I had to run clear across town, it took me at least fifteen minutes before I passed the Bay, and I slowed down slightly upon emerging in a dimly lit street. Digging my hands into the pockets of my pants, I started searching.

I had barely walked two blocks, when I caught sight of her.

She was seated upon the sidewalk, her back resting against a lamppost. She was balancing a notebook on a bandaged arm, and thoughtfully sucking the end of her pen, glancing skywards. I watched her for a moment, before she averted her gaze to her notebook, and began scribbling in it.

Smirking, I approached her. She didn't acknowledge my existance, until I stooped down, and plucked the book from her clutches.

She narrowed her eyes. "Hey asshole, give me that ba-"

Her anger faded immediately. Nice to see she still remembered...

"I'd watch my mouth if I were you. It might get you in trouble one day."  
She threw me a filthy glare. "Give me my book back."

I held it just out of her reach, glancing down upon the words she had written.

_Starry night, city lights coming down over me  
__Skyscrapers and stargazers in my head_

_Are we we are, are we we are the waiting unknown_

_This dirty town was burning down in my dreams  
__Lost and found, city bound in my dreams_

And screaming  
Are we we are, are we we are the waiting  
And screaming  
Are we we are, are we we are the waiting

_Forget me nots and second thoughts live in isolation  
Heads or tails and fairytales in my mind_

Are we we are, are we we are the waiting unknown

Rage and love, the story of my life  
The _Jesus of Suburbia__ is a lie_

For a split-second, I couldn't speak. It was so beautiful.

"What the fuck is this?"  
"Give it back." She snapped.  
"I asked you what it is."  
"Give me the goddamn book!"

With a faint smirk, I grabbed hold of the page, and tore it out. I dropped the remainder of the notebook to the ground, which she quickly grabbed, and I tore the page into several pieces, before scattering it like confetti. Her expression mutinous, she jumped to her feet, and shoved me hard in the shoulder.

"Fucking bastard!"

When I did not respond, she attempted it again, only this time, I grabbed her hand before it made contact. Locking eyes with her, I clenched my fist tightly, and she whimpered as the bones in her fingers splintered.

I tutted. "You should be more careful next time."  
"Fuck-"  
I slapped her hard across the face with the back of my hand. "Starting with your language."

She threw me a filthy glare, but it faltered quickly, and she simply stared at her feet, as though in shame.

Nodding in recognition of her silence, I blew her a kiss, before turning on my heel, and leaving Shit Mountain.

Once certain I was out of the vicinity, she dropped to the floor, grabbed her pen, flipped to a clean page in her notebook, and began furiously writing.

_"I'm all busted up, broken bones and nasty cuts  
Accidents will happen, but this time I can't get up..."_

I fell into my bed, not even bothering to take off my shoes, with a faint smile. I held my breath, closed my eyes, and dreamed about her.


	6. Corruption of a Saint

**Author's Note**: The first part of Roxie's POV comes from Sara's writing, and introduces what I find to be a fascinating plotline- watching a heroine fall. I really only ever play with that idea in this type of story; maybe I should do it more often? Eh, whatever. Enjoy it.

* * *

I swayed slightly on my stool, unsure of how I was remaining upright. I clutched a slowly smoldering joint in my left hand, and a half-empty bottle of whiskey in my other, my eyesight steadily becoming more blurred, and the room beginning to spin. It was approximately 3:30am, but I wasn't the only one in the bar. The majority of Shit Mountain was nocturnal.

I heard the door open, sounding as though it was 2,000 lightyears away, and the barman glanced up.

"Hey, Saint Jimmy!"  
"Hey Al, have you seen-"

I noticed someone sit beside me, resting his hand on mine with a concerned expression.

"Again?"

I nodded. He balled his left hand into a fist, and slammed it into the bar, gritting his teeth.

I hadn't seen the guy in three weeks, but he haunted my every move. Everytime someone approached me, I immediately assumed it was him, until proven otherwise.

Every night since the second attack, I had thrown myself through the doors of my local bar, Shenanigans, and drunk myself unconscious. Thankfully Jimmy had always been on hand to carry me home.

"I swear, if I ever get my fucking hands on him I'll-"  
"F'get it, J," I said, staring down at the bar. "I' don' ma'er."  
"Of course it fucking does!" He bellowed, causing me to flinch. "Nobody does that to my sister and gets a-fucking-way with it!"  
I shrugged. "Don' ma'er."

He stared at me as though I had recently developed a third eye, or a second head, or something equally ridiculous.

"I'll come pick you up when you've passed out, okay? Try not to do anything stupid."  
"'Kay."

He quickly embraced me, lightly kissed my cheek, and made a swift exit, muttering curses beneath his breath as he did so. I watched him leave with mild interest, before turning back to to Al.

"'Nother one, pleathe." I gestured towards my empty bottle.

He cast me a disdainful glance, as though silently stating that I had already had more than enough, before stooping down and removing another from the cooler, and placing it in front of me. Smiling lopsidedly, I picked up the bottle, and swigged deeply from it, savouring the burning sensation in the back of my throat, which I had come to adore in the past three weeks.

"Hey."

I glanced up, to see a stranger take Jimmy's vacated seat beside me. His hair had been bleached blonde, and he had dark green eyes, rimmed with black eyeliner, which glittered in the light. His eyes were heavily shadowed, as though he hadn't slept in months, and a faint smile played about his lips.

"Got a light?" he asked, glancing towards my joint, which was burning a little too close to my fingers.

I nodded, and removed one of the many lighters I had stolen from J's room from the pocket of my pants, and handed it to him.

"Thanks," He smiled gratefully, quickly lighting his own joint. "I'm Brian."  
"Woxthie."

He handed me back the lighter, and I took it back in my hand which had the broken fingers.

"Ouch." He commented.  
I shrugged. "Thome athhole."  
"Does it hurt?" He asked delicately.  
"Uh huh."

We sat in silence for several minutes, me drinking, him absently smoking, staring at the wall as though it was the most intriguing thing he had ever seen.

He turned back to me. "If it hurts so much, I could make it go away if you wanted."  
I stared at him. "'Ow?"  
He smiled. "If I told you, it wouldn't be a surprise."

Under any other circumstances, I would've told him to fuck off, but I had drunk too much to think straight.

"Al'ight."

He helped me to my feet, and I leaned on him to prevent from collapsing to the floor, as we exited the bar. Brian and I made our way through town, walking clear to the other side of Strangeland, until we stood in the midst of a complex of abandoned warehouses that sat unnervingly close to the eastern-most tip of the Bay (about five miles away from the most popular suicide point on either side of the Bay). He walked into the largest of these warehouses, leading me to a ratty old couch that had been pushed against one wall.

"Wait here, I'll be back in a minute," he said.

I sat there alone, too bleary from the alcohol to think straight. I stared straight ahead, not looking left or right, not letting myself think of anything. A moment later, Brian returned, clutching a brown paper bag and a belt. He sat beside me and gently grabbed my arm, fingering the vein in the crease of my elbow.

"What're 'oo doin'?" I asked.  
"You trust me, right?"  
"'eah…"  
Brian smiled. "Then trust me."

Before I could reply, he'd taken the belt and strapped it tightly around my bicep. I whimpered as he fastened the belt directly over some of the bruising the asshole had left, but didn't stop him as he reached into the bag and removed a syringe, and a small bottle of a clear liquid.

"Whassat?"  
Brian smiled indulgently. "You ask a lot of questions, don't you?" I shrugged, and Brian smiled wider. "This is your cure, Roxie."

He quickly filled the syringe with the drug, then moved to inject it into my arm. I shied away; I'd always promised J that I'd never touch anything like this…

"Roxie, calm down," Brian said. "This is gonna take it all away. The pain, the memories… it'll all be gone."  
I looked up into his eyes. "Pwomith?"  
Brian nodded. "I promise. Everything will be alright."

So saying, he injected the needle into my vein. I flinched slightly at the prick…

But in the next second, it was all gone. My mind had been wiped completely blank, and I was absolutely devoid of any emotions, thoughts… I drifted on a blessed cloud of nothingness.

"Whoa," I mumbled, falling back into the couch.  
Brian smiled. "Like it?"  
I nodded emphatically. "Wan' mo'e."  
"Give it a minute," he said. "That's strong shit; don't want too much at once."  
"'Kay," I said dociley, leaning back into the couch and closing my eyes. I could get used to this…

* * *

[Jimmy's POV]

As I walked through the Streets at 5:30 in the morning, I couldn't help but feel that there was something wrong. I had nothing to base this fear off of; it was a perfectly calm, quiet night. Maybe that's why I was so on edge… but I got the feeling that something was very, very wrong.

Beside me, Shanks glanced at me as he blew a stream of smoke out his nose. "Jesus, J, calm down. You're on edge and you're scaring me."  
"Sorry," I said. "It's just… there's something wrong."  
A tensed slightly, turning his head to look at me fully. "What do you mean?"  
"I don't know…" I said. "But something isn't right."

A clenched his jaw and fingered the gun in his pocket. He, like the rest of my core group of dealers, knew from bitter experience that my feelings on these things were very rarely wrong.

"Hello again, Al," I said as I walked into Shenanigans fifteen minutes later. "Where is she?"  
Al gulped. "She's… she's not here, St. Jimmy."

I paled as my eyes narrowed. Cue the bad feelings multiplying by a hundred…

"What do you mean, she's not here?"  
"She's not here. She left with Brian, about an hour and a half ago."

My eyes flew wide open, and beside me Shanks struggled to remain composed. Brian had come here from the west side, and quickly proved to be a slimy, treacherous character. If Roxie was with him…

Shanks whirled around and strode out the bar, stalking into the street. I rolled my eyes and hurried after him (what? A's about six inches taller than me, it's hard to keep up with him when he's hurrying).

"A, slow down," I said, panting slightly and cursing my smokers' lungs. "I'm worried about Roxie too, but we won't be able to help her if we can't breathe."  
"J, Brian just got an order of drugs in," Shanks snapped. "Smack, shrooms, E, speed, 'Caine… everything. If he's with Roxie? He'll shoot her some ungodly combination of shit and try to rape her!"  
"In which case, we kill him," I replied, my voice a growl.

We burst into the warehouse where Brian stayed. There was no sign of him; nothing but several packets of drugs and paraphernalia. Then…

"Shit! Roxie!"

Shanks ran over to the couch, where Roxie lay shaking. Her eyes had rolled into the back of her head, she was foaming at the mouth slightly, and her lips had turned blue. I paled drastically as I realized what Brian had given her. A thunderbolt. It was a concoction that I had come up with; novacaine mixed with heroin, opium, a dash of peyote, and speed. The rush was fucking unbelievable.

Roxie's allergic to speed.

I flew to her side and grabbed her hand in mine as A ran to the kitchen to get some water. I took a deep breath and closed my eyes, resting a hand on her forehead. I concentrated hard, trying to channel… whatever power it was that I had in me. I wasn't quite sure what I was doing, but I directed a beam of white light into Roxie. She shuddered violently, then went limp. I checked her pulse quickly and sighed in relief to discover that she was just asleep.

A walked back in, then stopped upon seeing Roxie laying still. "She's…?"  
"Sleeping," I replied, not turning around.

A walked towards me, then stopped dead, staring. I turned to look at him.

"What?"

A didn't answer; he just stared at my hands. I looked down, then stared to see that they were surrounded by a faint white light.

"What the fuck?" I muttered.  
"You… you have the magic," A said shakily.  
"I don't know what you're talking about," I said. "Yeah, I can do some weird shit. But magic? Magic doesn't exist."  
"You've never heard the legends?" A asked.  
"Apparently not," I replied.

A opened his mouth, but was distracted by a tiny murmur of sound from Roxie.

"C'mon, we should get her home," he said.

He walked over and carefully scooped Roxie up in his arms, holding her close as he headed outside. I followed, watching him thoughtfully.

I had known Armatage for six years. We met when we were twelve- he sold me my first joint, actually. We'd been best friends ever since. I knew him better than anyone and could read him like a book.

But I hadn't been prepared to discover that he'd been in love with my sister for the past three years.

On the one hand, I was NOT happy about it. I loved Rox, and I wanted nothing more than to get her out of here. I wanted better for her than the life we led here. And the last thing I wanted was for her to get involved with a dealer from the Streets.

But on the other hand… Shanks was the only one I trusted. I would rather see Roxie with him, and know that he would do anything to protect her, than see her with some asshole who wouldn't give two shits about her.

I sighed to myself. What the hell was I going to do? I wanted what was best for Roxie, really. But what exactly WAS best for her?

I groaned silently; I sensed that very soon in my future I'd have to sit down and talk to both Shanks and Roxie about this. It's tough to be the King…


	7. Lady and the Tramp

**Author's Note**: Much though I would sometimes like to, it's not possible to write a story that's comprised only of unending angst and suffering. Life doesn't work like that, fortunately. So this chapter serves to lighten the mood. It's kind of like the eye in the storm; you know things are only going to get worse, but you're thankful for the calm at the moment. Enjoy!

**Disclaimer**: Yes, this chapter insinuates that Rox and A shagged. No, I am not advocating having sex when you're 16 years old. And no, I'm really not advocating unprotected sex. Be smart, and don't sue me if you're stupid and things go wrong.

* * *

[Jimmy's POV]  
I woke up one morning a week later to hear Brad screaming downstairs. I groaned, figuring he was probably drunk or high again. Now there's a funny thought- if he was buying drugs, he had to be getting them from one of my dealers. He owed me his fixes, and yet he treated me and Roxie like shit. How's that for irony?

I sighed and rolled out of bed, adjusting my boxers and pulling a shirt on before walking downstairs and silently walking into the kitchen, in search of food. All I found was a half-empty carton of milk, a loaf of moldy bread, and a bottle of ketchup. I swear to god, I'm the only responsible person in this fucked up conglomeration of people called my family…

I sighed heavily and walked into the living room, just in time to see Brad storm out, leaving my mom in a jaded stupor on the couch. I looked around the living room, disgust filling me as my gaze flew over the dirty, ripped-up, broken down furniture… the broken TV… the stained carpet… the magazine, food cartons and drugs spread all over the coffee table… the cockroaches and ants that ran free around the room…

Something within me snapped. I couldn't take this anymore. I could not live here a second longer. This place was going to kill me.

I spun on my heel and stormed upstairs, kicking open my door and dressing quickly. I grabbed a large duffel bag and grabbed the essentials- my drugs and paraphernalia, some CDs and my CD player, some clothes, my extra gun, eyeliner, and all the money I had- and shoved them into the bag, forcing it shut. Then I walked down the hall and into Roxie's room.

She lay sleeping on her bed, a peaceful smile on her face. For a moment, I just looked at her, sighing. I knew that I was taking her from one shithole, Jingletown, into another, the Streets of Shame, but I didn't have a choice. I had to get her out of here, away from Brad, away from this. I could provide for her better than Brad could… and I had to get her away from him before he tried to beat her again.

"Roxie," I whispered, leaning down to shake her gently. "Poppy, wake up."  
"Whassagoinon?" Roxie asked sleepily.  
"C'mon, Poppy, pack your stuff. We're leaving," I said.  
Roxie's eyes flew open. "What?"  
I smiled. "We're leaving, Rox. We're moving into the SOS, leaving our last name behind us so Brad and Mom can't find us. Now c'mon, pack your shit."

Roxie nodded and grabbed her things, packing them into the duffel I handed her. Within minutes, she was ready to go. Without a word, we passed our comatose mother and walked out the front door, throwing our duffels in the backseat of my car and climbing in.

"Running away from pain when we've been victimized… tales from another broken home…" I sang softly as I pulled out of the driveway and headed to freedom.  
Roxie glanced at me, dragging a hand through the curls that she hadn't pulled back yet. "J? We do have a place to stay, right? I mean, we're not gonna live on the streets?"  
I rolled my eyes, grinning. "You don't trust me at all, do you? I have a place in the Streets."  
"Oh. What're we changing our name to?" she asked curiously.  
"Blake," I replied.  
She raised an eyebrow. "Why?"  
"Coz," I said simply. "It's badass."  
Roxie rolled her eyes but nodded, leaning back in her seat and looking up at the sky. "I can't believe we're really out of there."  
I smiled. "I know. We're going to Paradise now, Poppy. And we'll be on holiday for the rest of our lives."

* * *

[Armatage's POV]  
I was having a good morning.

Jimmy had finally snapped and moved out of Jingletown, and of course he'd brought Roxie with him. They'd moved into the house that J had taken over, down in Misery Street (despite the name, it was one of the better streets in the SOS). They'd walked down here with the intention that J could get to work… 'cept, he'd decided upon arriving to take the day off. So we were currently wandering around the neighborhood.

"What am I supposed to do all day while you're dealing?" Roxie asked J. "I mean, it's kinda pointless for me to go to school, right?"  
J sighed. "Well, you are on the other side of the Bay now…"  
"Yes!" she cheered, throwing a fist up in the air. "I get to drop out!!"  
J grumbled. "I don't like it."  
Roxie rolled her eyes. "J… I can still get out of here without wasting my life in that godforsaken building."  
"Aw, leave her alone, J," I said, slinging an arm around her. "She has a better chance of getting out of here than any of us, since she's not hooked on all the drugs we are."  
"True," J nodded. Then he turned to Roxie. "Don't you fucking DARE get hooked on any of the drugs down here, okay? Pot, cigarettes, those are okay. But if you try anything harder-"  
"J, please," she sighed. "You've given me this speech about a hundred times. I swear I won't get into that shit, okay?"  
J grinned. "Good girl."  
Roxie rolled her eyes. "So is there anything to do here that you two haven't already showed me?"  
"Nope!" J said.  
"Great," Roxie muttered. "So I'm gonna be bored out of my skull, aren't I?"  
"Of course not!" I said. "You'll have all sorts of fun. There are still stores around here, y'know. So you can go and amuse yourself with that. Or you could spend all of your time hanging out with us."  
Roxie laughed. "Why would I spend more time with you idiots?"  
I pouted. "Coz they're funny and I'm cute?"  
"Good point."  
"I try."

* * *

[Armatage's POV, later that night]  
I sat on the hood of the car, chain smoking and amusing myself by watching the various drunk and stoned people. Drunk people always afforded me great amusement. I guess that's why I kept coming to gatherings like this one at Christie.

Jimmy had decided to throw a party to celebrate his and Roxie's move to the Streets. So he'd sent word through the dealers to come to Christie at sundown for a good old fashioned booze-and-drugfest. Music was blaring out of someone's radio, there was a bonfire going… the party had raged for hours already, and showed no signs of stopping soon.

I sighed to myself as I leaned against the windshield, just thinking. It was a strange road that had led me here…

I'd started getting into drugs when I was twelve, as a form of rebellion against my asshole of a father. That's how I met Jimmy; he would buy his joints and cigarettes from me. We were fast friends, he and I; practically brothers. When my dad kicked me out when I was 15, J was the one who helped me get a place to live over on Adeline Street, just a couple streets over from where he and Roxie were now living. When Jimmy started getting power in the SOS, he took me up the ladder of success with him. Now we were 18. St. Jimmy was the undisputed King of the Streets of Shame, and I was his second-in-command.

It was a position I was happy with. I didn't mind working for J; he trusts me with his life, as I do with him. Sometimes I'd thought of being the one in control, not answering to anybody… but I knew that wouldn't work for me. I could lead, yeah… but I was much better at carrying out other people's plans. Which is why J's and my partnership worked so well.

There was only one thing in the world that I wanted…

And that was the one girl I knew I could never have.

I could remember the day I met Roxanne Grace O'Connell as easily as if it were yesterday. I was fifteen, she was thirteen. Jimmy had brought her into town to get her away from Brad for a while, because the asshole had been pissed and had been venting his frusterations out on Roxie. J kept her at my place because it was closer to the 7/11, so he could get whatever supplies he needed to tend to her wounds and get back faster. She was at my place for two weeks, and during that whole time we rarely left her side.

I don't know what it was about her, but within those two weeks she had me wrapped around her little finger. I'd do anything for her, just to keep her safe… to make her happy…

As the years had passed, I'd fallen harder and harder for her. I knew that she didn't feel the same way, knew that J would never allow it… but I couldn't stop myself. Coz I'm just that much of an idiot.

The party raged for… god, it must've been another two hours. I was just thinking of leaving when I realized- Roxie and I were the only two sober, clean people there. Everyone else was either high, drunk, a combination of both, or passed out. J had by this point disappeared with some slut or other… meaning it was up to me to get Roxie home safe.

"Hey, Lady," I greeted her, ambling over to the tracks where she was sitting.

Lady is my nickname for her, because she reminds me of Lady from Lady and the Tramp. She's that delicate and naïve, and that deserving of protection.

She smiled up at me. "Hey, Tramp."  
"You ready to head home?" I asked.  
Roxie made a face. "J went home with… whatsherface… the slut with the huge tits, didn't he? I don't wanna be up all night coz they're making so much noise."  
"Stay with me, then?" I suggested.  
"Yes please," she said, jumping up.

I nodded, but before we left, a song came on the radio- _I'll Have to Say I Love You in a Song_, by Jim Croce.

Roxie raised her eyebrow. "Wow. Haven't heard this song in ages. My parents used to dance to this, before-"

She cut off, blinking back tears. I imperceptibly flinched. J had told me about his and Rox's real dad, who'd died of lung cancer when J was 12 and Roxie 10. They'd hero-worshipped their dad, and I knew they'd never really gotten over his death.

I bit my lip. "Wanna dance?"

…

Why did I ask that?

She looked up and smiled, nodding.

Wait, hold on… she said yes? Holy shit, she said yes…

Okay, Shanks, breathe… you can do this… she's just a girl…

Well, dancing proved to be difficult, seeing as I'm a good nine inches taller than Roxie. But we somehow made it work. She rested her head against my chest, just under my shoulder. I closed my eyes and rested my chin on the top of her head, relaxing slightly.

Then my big mouth had to go and ruin everything…

"Rox, if I did something bad, don't tell J?"  
Roxie lifted her head and looked up at me. "What'd you do this time?" she grinned.

Then, before I could stop myself… I leaned down and placed my lips on hers.

Oh shit. No, I did _not_ just do that. I didn't. Nope. I did _not_ just kiss her.

Oh my god, I just kissed her. What the hell was I thinking?!

…

Wait a minute… is she kissing back?

She snaked her arms around my neck, pulling me closer as I tangled my fingers in her hair.

God, this was wrong… I knew how wrong it was… but it felt so right… too right…

Slowly, we pulled away, staring at each other. Roxie swallowed hard, stars in her huge eyes.

"Tell you what," she said shakily. "I won't tell J you did that… if you don't tell him I did this."

Cue her pulling me closer and kissing me again.

Well, can't argue with that arrangement…

I gathered her up in my arms, carrying her out of Christie and towards my house. I knew that I should break this kiss, stop things before they went too far… but there was some huge gap between my mind and my body that nothing seemed to be able to breach.

I kicked open my front door, kicking it shut behind me. I carried her upstairs quickly, and laid her down on the bed, supporting myself over her as the kiss turned almost feverishly passionate. It wasn't until her hands slid under my shirt that I jerked back to reality.

"Wait…" I said unevenly, pulling away from her a bit. "Wh-what are we doing?"  
"I don't… really know," Roxie said, her breathing heavy and uneven.  
"Me either," I said.  
"J… he would probably kill us…" Roxie said, looking away.

I nodded… and looked down at her… and the rational side of my brain completely shut off.

"But at the moment? I really don't care," I said boldly.  
Roxie looked up at me, and seemed to make up her mind. "Neither do I."  
"Well, as long as he's gonna kill us, we might as well earn it…" I said. "I've liked you since the moment I saw you."  
She smiled shyly. "Really?" I nodded. Her smile widened. "I always liked you too."  
I gave her a crooked smile. "I blame you for making me fall in love with you. That wasn't fair."  
She looked up at me, her eyes large and soft. "It is fair when you did the same to me," she said in almost a whisper.  
I stared at her, almost not believing the words coming out of her mouth. "You hid it well."  
"Felt like I was being the most obvious thing in the world. I wanted to tell you every time I saw you."  
"Me too."  
"We've both been idiots," she said, laughing slightly.  
I nodded. "Let me fix that… Be my girlfriend?" I asked.

She nodded, smiling. I grinned and leaned down to kiss her again… and then the time for words was over.

As I pulled off her shirt, some remote part of my brain realized that I was likely signing my death wish. But the rest of my brain realized that a) what J didn't know wouldn't hurt me, and b) even if he did find out and kill me… it was worth it. Roxie was worth it.


	8. An Offer He Can't Refuse

**Author's Note**: I enjoy this chapter for a couple of reasons. First off, the discussion between Jimmy and Armatage is, in my opinion, priceless. That eternally awkward "You did WHAT to my baby sister?!" conversation. I love it [especially considering that J slept with a girl too, and it was just some random slut that he didn't give two shits about. I love J being a hypocrite]. Second, this is the chapter where Billie and Jimmy meet. And I think it's funny. The aftermath in a chapter or two? Not so much. But the initial moment? Fantastic. Enjoy!

**Disclaimer**: Anyanka? Yeah, I don't own her. She's Sara's. She actually shows up in the 6th part of the Cara saga, I believe, and fucks everything up royally. I figured it was only appropriate for her to make a cameo.

* * *

[Jimmy's POV]  
I opened my eyes slowly, then snapped them shut again. Ow… blinding pain… fucking hangovers…

A minute or two later, I forced my limbs into motion and sat up, groggy and disoriented. A glance at my watch told me that it was 2:30 in the afternoon. Another glance at the bed reminded me of what had happened last night. Shrugging, I grabbed my clothes and dressed quickly, not bothering to wait for the girl to wake up. It wasn't like we owed each other anything; it had just been a mindless fuck or two, no harm done.

I left her shithole of an apartment and headed back to my house, yawning and cursing the bright sunlight. I stumbled into the house and headed to the kitchen, desperate for a cup or six of coffee.

"Roxie?" I called as I started the pot.

No response. Odd; normally Roxie doesn't sleep in.

"Rox?" I called again as I headed upstairs to her room.

I opened the door… and found that her duffel was still on the bed, where she'd left it last night. Meaning, she hadn't come home last night.

Panic started rising in my chest as a million different scenarios ran through my head. Anything could have happened to her… and I hadn't been there.

"Goddamnit!" I yelled as I sprinted downstairs, grabbing a gun or two on the way.

Just as I wrenched open the door…

I did a double take to see Fink standing there, his hand poised to knock.

"St. Jimmy!" he said, surprised and relieved.  
"What is it, Fink?" I asked somewhat impatiently.  
He shifted from foot to foot uneasily. "You know how you told us to keep tabs on Roxie?"  
I paused, hoping he was about to tell me where she was. "Yeah…"  
"And how you wanted us to come and tell you when a guy made a move on her?"  
I clenched my jaw, my grip on the doorjamb tightening. "Yeah…"  
"Well…" Fink gulped. "A guy made a big move on her."  
I snarled. "Who was it?"  
"Sh-Shanks…" Fink stammered.  
My jaw dropped. "WHAT?!"  
"It was Shanks!" Fink squeaked, talking quickly in the hopes that I wouldn't kill him. "He told Roxie he'd walk her home, but then they danced, and kissed, and he took her back to his house-"  
"Fucking hell!" I growled, slamming the side of my fist into the door before rushing outside.

It wasn't so much that it was Shanks, you understand. I liked Shanks; he'd been my best friend for years. But he'd taken Roxie to his place? Without my knowledge?!

I didn't hold any illusions about what must've happened last night. Shanks wasn't the kind of guy that took a girl home just so she could sleep on his couch, not even if that girl was Roxie. Nope. If she'd been at his place last night…

I growled. Much though I liked Shanks, he was dead.

* * *

[Shanks' POV]

I blinked sleepily, yawning and slowly sitting up. I glanced at the clothes strewn around the room, confused; how had those gotten there? I turned… and then it all came crashing back to me.

"Oh my giddy aunt," I mumbled, grabbing my boxers and slipping out of bed, kissing Roxie's forehead before going downstairs.

I tried to tell myself that I wasn't scared, that I was okay, that I had nothing to worry about. Then I snorted; I was in a shitload of trouble. I'd just shattered J's cardinal rule- nobody fucks with his baby sister. Six years of friendship would mean nothing when he found out.

I didn't hold any illusions about him somehow not knowing. It was fucking St. Jimmy. He'd know. And as soon as he did…

I was dead.

My mind drifted back to what I'd seen a couple of weeks ago, when J's hands had started glowing. I shook my head, disbelieving. No one in Strangeland had had the magic for decades. It was an old myth.

And yet…

The myth said that Strangeland had a savior, known as the Jesus of Suburbia. He'd come into the SOS from Jingletown, and transform us, somehow sacrificing himself in the process.

Nobody really believed in that myth, anymore. There'd been no proof that such a person ever existed, or that the magic was even real.

But knowing Jimmy… and seeing what he'd done with Roxie… it made me wonder.

Could St. Jimmy really be the Jesus of Suburbia?

KNOCK KNOCK KNOCK

"Oh sweet Jesus, save my soul," I muttered as I crossed into the living room.

BANG

"Morning, J," I sighed. "Let yourself in."  
"Don't fuck with me, Shanks," J said as he stepped over the door he'd knocked off its hinges. "Where is she?"  
"Upstairs. She's still sleeping," I told him, figuring it was probably better if I didn't lie.  
He nodded. "What have I always told people about Roxie?"  
"Not to touch her," I sighed.  
"And what did you do?"  
"Touched her."  
"At least you're not denying it."  
"I figured if I didn't lie you'd make my death quick and painless."  
"You always were the optimist."

We both turned at a slight rustle from the stairs. I winced slightly to see Roxie standing there in bedhead hair and a sheet wrapped around her otherwise naked body.

"What's going on-" she started, but she stopped upon seeing her brother standing in the doorway.  
"Go get your clothes, I'm taking you home," J said tightly, giving me a glare filled with barely-controlled rage.

Her face pale, she turned and did as he said, almost running up the stairs. When she was gone, J turned back to me, an unreadable expression on his face.

I sighed and bowed my head. "Jimmy… I would say I'm sorry, but I promised not to lie. I'm not sorry. And neither is Roxie. I… I love her, J. You know I wouldn't hurt her."  
"Shut up," J snapped, and I instantly did so. "Let me make one thing perfectly clear, Shanks. _I am not happy about this whatsoever._ I'm supposed to be protecting my sister no matter what, and the last thing I want is for her to get involved with anybody from the Bay." He sighed. "That being said… you're my best friend. I trust you with my life. And I know I can trust you with my sister. So… take care of her."

I looked up and nodded, hardly daring to believe this was happening but not stopping to question it. Roxie came downstairs, and J's face softened slightly.

"Let's go, Rox," he said, walking outside.  
She paused a second as she came beside me. "I'll try to soften him," she whispered.  
I nodded, then leaned down and swiftly kissed her. "I'll see you later."

She nodded and walked out the door, then paused at the foot of the steps and turned back to me.

"No regrets," she said softly before following Jimmy to the sidewalk.

I smiled to myself as I replaced the door on its hinges and headed upstairs. No regrets.

* * *

[Roxie's POV]  
"You hungry?" J asked as we headed into town.  
"Yeah," I nodded.  
"Let's go," he said, heading off to Taco Bell without glancing at me.

I waited until he'd bought us food and had led us to Christie to eat before I decided to broach the topic at hand.

"Jimmy?" I asked.  
"Yeah."  
"We need to talk."  
He sighed. "About Shanks."  
I nodded slowly. "You shouldn't be mad at him, J."  
He glanced at me then, an unreadable look on his face. "He screwed my little sister. I think I have every right to be mad."  
I looked down, hiding my blush. "But he was the one who suggested we stop. I wouldn't let him."  
J sighed heavily. "Rox… do you love him?"

I nodded slowly, my blush deepening. J sighed again, then slung an arm around my shoulders.

"Then that's all I need to know," he said. "Just… if he does hurt you… come find me, and I'll kick his ass to fucking hell and back and hell again."  
I smiled a bit, leaning into him. "Thank you, J. Really. I know you're just trying to look after me."  
"Trying," he said. "And apparently failing, if I let Shanks touch you."  
I smiled a bit. "Not your fault if I'm hard to manage."  
"This is true."

We grinned at each other and finished eating quickly before leaving Christie and heading for home.

"Well well well, look what we have here," said a cold, sadistic voice from behind me.

I instantly froze up, shaking a little as I realized who it was. Oh god, not again…

"Rox?" J asked quietly.

I didn't answer him. I just turned around and paled to see him standing there with his two pathetic friends. Oh god, why was he here?!

"What do you want?" I asked in a voice that was fainter than usual.  
Billie shrugged. "Just went looking for my new friend, that's all."  
"Uh-huh," I said, subtley moving closer to Jimmy.  
"So have you been working on what I told you?" he asked.

I tensed as memories of our last meeting flooded my mind, and pulled my arms closer to my body in some attempt to protect them.

"Fuck you."  
He smirked, walking forward. "Obviously not."  
"Who the fuck are you?" J asked, standing before me.  
Billie smirked. "And who are you, her fag of a boyfriend?"

I winced. Oh god, this wasn't gonna end well… Jimmy's face twisted into a cold, cruel smirk. A smirk that never meant anything good.

"No, actually. I'm St. Jimmy."

Billie's face paled slightly as he realized he'd just insulted the Bay's most powerful dealer. Which I had to admit, I kind of enjoyed seeing.

"I see you know my sister, St. Roxie," J continued, almost casually.  
"Sh-she's your sister?!" he asked, panicking.  
Jimmy nodded. "So you'd be the one who's been breaking her bones."  
"I… um… I…"  
"Shut the fuck up," Jimmy ordered, his smirk widening as Billie fell silent. His gaze fell on Mike and Tre. "And I assume you're the two assholes who didn't stop Billie here when he decided to beat the shit out of my sister?" Mike and Tre shifted uneasily. Jimmy nodded. "Well, boys, I'd like to welcome you to Strangeland," J said, folding his arms. "The rules here are pretty simple. Matter of fact, we only have two. Rule Number One: pay for your shit on time. Rule Number Two: leave St. Roxie the fuck alone."

Before anyone could react, Jimmy's fist shot out, and he punched Billie square in the nose.

"Nobody messes with my little sister and gets a-fucking-way with it," he growled as his eyes turned black.

…

Wait a minute… his eyes turned black?!?

"ACATRAO!!" Jimmy bellowed, throwing his arms out.

A 360 degree burst of white light left his body…

And that was when I passed out.

* * *

[Jimmy's POV]  
I fell to my knees, drained, as the light left my body and hit the three assholes dead on. Within seconds, they had all collapsed to the ground, knocked unconscious by the power I'd channelled. I smirked to myself as I leaned back on my heels; that'd teach them.

I glanced at Roxie, who'd also fallen unconscious, and winced guiltily. "Sorry, sis."

My gaze fell on Billie, and I scowled. How the fuck _dare_ he attack my sister like that? Who the fuck did he think he was?

"I wish I could destroy you," I murmured. "I wish I could cause you one-tenth the pain you've caused Roxie."  
"I could help you."

I jerked around and turned to look at whoever had spoken. Her hair was dyed black with streaks of scarlet red, and just brushed the tops of her shoulders. Her skin was deathly pale. Her eyes were blood red, and one of them had a scar that went from just above her eyebrow to her cheekbone. She was dressed in red and black robes.

"Who the fuck are you?" I asked.  
"My name is Anyanka," she said, inclining her head. "But only call me that if you have a death wish. It's Anya."  
"Okay, Anya… now… what do you want?" I asked. "I don't have anything on me-"  
She waved a hand. "I am not here for your drugs, St. Jimmy. You said you wanted to destroy this mortal, that you wanted to learn to control your powers? I can help you."  
I tilted my head. "How?" I asked curiously.  
"I am an Ashurian," she said.

When I looked at her blankly, she rolled her eyes.

"Have you never heard the mythology of Strangeland?" she asked.  
"Nope," I replied. "Shanks is the one who listens to crap like that-"  
"I assure you, it is not crap," she said cooly. "And if you want to learn what I have to teach, you had best shut up and listen." I sighed and nodded, shutting my mouth. She nodded once and continued on. "The Ashurians were the ancient guardians of Strangeland," she said. "It is their magic that flows through the most powerful Saints of this realm. But the Ashurians were overthrown thousands of years ago by the current Guardians, the Toraleans," she said, spitting the word out as if it were the most disgusting of curses. "They mingled their powers with mortals, creating a race of weaker magical beings. But it is the Ashurian Saints who are the strongest. The magic of the Ashurians flows through you, Jimmy. It is that magic that allowed you to heal your sister, to know what is going to happen to her. It is that magic that allowed you to knock these mortals unconscious just now."  
"So Shanks was right? I have magic?" I asked, looking down at my hands.  
"Yes," Anya said. "You have an extraordinary amount of power in you, Jimmy. You need to be trained so that you can handle that magic. Once you know how to use it, you can protect your sister as well as you want to."  
I looked up. "I'll do it."  
Anya gave me a strange half-smile. "I expected nothing less."


	9. A Fall into Darkness

**Author's Note**: Well, this chapter begins the inevitable slide into angst and tragedy. Which is probably why it's my favorite chapter in the story. This is the point where my heroine really, truly loses herself, which kind of makes me giggle [because I'm evil like that]. Enjoy!

* * *

Things started changing after that night. Had I known it was the beginning of the end of everything I'd ever known, I might have tried to do more to prevent it. But as it was, I was blind to the inevitable, and helpless to stop it from unfolding before my eyes.

Jimmy had triumphantly told me that he'd been given powers by the Ashurians. When I didn't believe him, he demonstrated his new gift by turning my hair pink (I about killed him for that).

"Just watch, Rox," he'd said excitedly. "Nobody's ever gonna fuck with you now; they won't dare if they know I could kill them by snapping my fingers. And God, this is gonna help with those assholes who try to fuck with me in the Streets…"

Well, he may have considered his new powers to be the greatest thing in the world since the discovery of marijuana, but I hated it.

He was never around now. Where he went, nobody knew. He would randomly disappear for weeks at a time, with not a word to let us know where he was going, if he was even still alive. Then he would randomly reappear, not at all understanding why we had all been so worried about him.

"I'm St. fucking Jimmy, remember?" he'd say. "Nobody who wants to live messes with me. I can take care of myself; I don't need all of you worrying about me when you should be out dealing to the assholes around here."

That was the other thing that had changed about him. His infamously short temper had gotten, if possible, even shorter. And when he got angry, his anger was hotter, more hateful, more full of rage. He never got mad at me; apparently the fact that I was his baby sister gave me some mystical immunity to the worst side of him. But I heard about his frequent outbursts from everyone else. And what I heard worried me. I was already losing my brother to the seedy underworld of the SOS. I didn't want his powers to take him even further from me.

Since J was gone so much, I spent most of my days with Armatage. We had agreed early on that our relationship was between us, and that it was nobody else's business what we did or didn't do. So even though I spent most of my time with him, we didn't indulge in much PDA (that's what the abandoned alleyways all through the SOS were for), or discuss our relationship with other people. All people really knew was that we were together, and that Jimmy wasn't particularly happy about it. We liked it like that; it was almost like what we shared was a secret, a mystery.

But it also meant that A didn't have anyone to turn to in order to ask for help with me.

I had started having nightmares about what Billie had done to me. Even though my broken bones had healed, and the bruises had long since faded, the memories had irrevocably scarred me. Almost every day, I was plagued by the eerie feeling that I was being watched, followed. Twenty or more times a day when we were walking, I would whip around, convinced that I felt malicious eyes on me, only to find that there was no one there. It was a rare night that A didn't have to shake me awake to free me from the grips of a nightmare, from which I would awake pale, shaking, and in a cold sweat. He did all he could to reassure me, to attempt to calm me. But nothing could shelter me from the feelings and sensations plaguing me. Normally, all I could do was bury my head in A's chest and try to hide in his arms, praying that when I fell back into a shallow, restless sleep the nightmare wouldn't return.

But that didn't always work. More and more frequently, Armatage found himself having to work through the nights, picking up the slack for Jimmy. On those nights when he wasn't there, I had no one to hold me, to shield me from the fear.

I had found by now that the terrifying feelings of being watched were worst of all when I was alone. During the day, this was no problem; I could always find a friend of mine in the SOS to walk around with. But during these nights when A was gone, and Jimmy was MIA, I was completely, totally, terrifyingly alone.

I suppose that's what drove me to seek solace in the drugs.

Bad coping mechanism, I know. But in the Streets, it was all we had.

Alcohol had ceased working, really. And after the experience I had had with Brian, I didn't trust bars (or strangers) anymore. Pot and cigarettes had become everyday fare for me; mere recreational activities. They offered me no solace or safety. So I started progressing to harder drugs. I knew that if Jimmy found out, he would have my head. So I'd obtained my own dealer, named King, and heavily bribed him never to let on to Jimmy what I was doing. Since I paid him well, he never breathed a word to anybody that the Streets' favorite little saint was steadily becoming a junkie.

Through a dangerous process of trial and error, I'd learned which drugs to seek and which to avoid. Stamps, any sort of dust, speed, or anything related I couldn't take; the hallucinatory effects only served to worsen the paranoia. I had no tolerance at all for that, anyways. The excitatory drugs, like X, made me fall headlong into a panic attack. Which left the narcotic drugs. And therein lay my savior.

J had been right all those years ago, when he nicknamed me Poppy. The drugs that were obtained from that flower became my best friends. I'd started small, with Vicodin and Valium. From there I progressed to the more powerful drugs. Opium, morphine, heroin; they alone could comfort me, make me feel safe.

But, as must always happen, there came the day when even heroin failed to make me feel as safe as it once had. Its embrace was no longer soothing; only disappointing. When I learned this, I spent a long night in withdrawl and frusterated tears.

And then I remembered heroin's big brother.

Getting Novacaine was a complicated process. I couldn't just take it from J or A's private stashes; that would be too obvious, and I couldn't risk being discovered. I didn't want to hear them lecture, and I couldn't bear to let them take my cure from me.

King didn't directly deal Novacaine; the only dealers in town who had it without buying it from anybody else were Jimmy and Armatage. But at the incentive of a pay increase, he brokered a deal with Jinx; Jinx would get the 'Caine from A, and sell it to King in exchange for a goody bag (Jimmy's term for a little bit of everything).

I'd thought, after that first experience with it, that I'd never be drawn to the siren's call ever again. I'd thought that I'd been done with drugs, that I didn't feel any desire for the mind-numbing apathy.

How wrong I was.

It was love at first use with me and Novacaine. From the very first rush, I was addicted. I grew to adore the feeling of feeling nothing at all.

Oddly enough, no matter how many drugs I used, I never became addicted like everyone else. I didn't start withdrawing two hours after I got a fix, and the need for drugs didn't take over my life. It must've had something to do with being Jimmy's sister and having some sort of protection in my veins, something akin to his magic, but I found that I could go days, weeks even, without needing anything other than the occasional smoke or two.

It wasn't that I needed the Novacaine. It was that I wanted it.

In the embrace of that clear liquid, I could forget about the demons that plagued me for a few precious hours. Every track mark gave me another escape from a world that had turned out to be not quite the holiday Jimmy had promised me. Every fix let me disappear into nothingness, kept me safe and free from harm.

And that was worth everything.


	10. KERBOOM

**

* * *

**

**Author's Note:** There were a few things that identified my stories on quizilla, especially if it was a story where magic was involved. One was melodramatic angstiness. Another was long, drawn-out POVs full of internal monologuing instead of actual concrete action. The third was that at some point, something was gonna go KERBOOM in a truly epic and spectacular fashion. This chapter happens to feature all three. And I love it. Enjoy!

* * *

[Billie's POV]  
It had been three weeks since I last saw Roxie and her brother. In those three weeks, I'd had little to do except smoke a lot of pot and think. And think I did. Unendingly. I even dreamt about them. The memory of what had happened during our last meeting constantly played in my head, taunting me, driving me crazy.

How the fuck did he _dare_ to attack me like he had? All I'd been doing was catching up with a friend. If I wanted to talk to Roxie, that was none of Jimmy's goddamned business. I got that he wasn't pleased that I'd messed with his sister, but she was a big girl. She could take care of herself. She didn't need him to play Superman for her, and I sure as hell didn't need him to lecture me as if he were my fucking stepfather.

The bastard. Who did he think he was, some sort of savior? He was a freak, that's what he was. Walking around blasting people unconscious with… whatever the hell he'd done. He was just another one of God's mistakes, a waste of space, another reject from the Streets of Shame.

And another thing. How in the hell had _he_ gotten magic? Nobody had had the magic for forever; they were just myths. So how had he gotten it? And why him? What made Jimmy Blake so damn special?

For that matter, what made his sister so special? She was just a weak little girl who depended on other people to take care of her. Why should I get in trouble for trying to toughen the little crybaby's hide? And what did she do to thank me for that lesson? Go crying to her big brother! What the hell was wrong with her? If you have a problem, you take care of it yourself. That's how it works in the real world. Nobody gives a shit about you; you have to fend for yourself. She had to learn that if she was ever gonna survive.

It was infuriating. I had done nothing wrong, and now I was being put through hell for it. Was I just gonna lay there and take it like a bitch?

No I fucking was not. I was going to get my revenge.

They'd think twice before they fucked with Billie Joe Armstrong again.

I spent weeks sitting in a cloud of smoke, chainsmoking joints as I meticulously hatched a plan. It was simple, and foolproof.

They'd never know what hit them.

* * *

[Roxie's POV]  
We were having a really good afternoon.

Jimmy and I were in the house alone. He'd sent Armatage to San Fransisco for a really big delivery, and come over to keep me company for the week that A would be gone. We'd decided to amuse ourselves by watching _The Rocky Horror Picture Show_ and _Hedwig and the Angry Inch_ while plastered. Which was incredibly amusing. Nothing is more hilarious than watching Jimmy sing "I'm Just a Sweet Transvestite" while both you and he are drunker than shit.

When the movies were over, we found ourselves still bored. So we'd drunk even more, and begun singing a song Jimmy had written at the top of our lungs.

_St. Jimmy's coming to town across the alleyway  
__Upon the Boulevard like a zip guard on parade  
__Light of a silhouette, he's insubordinate  
__Coming at you on the count of 1, 2, 1 2 3 4_

"My name is St. Jimmy, I'm a son of a gun, I'm the one that's from the way outside, now," I sang into my Jack Daniels bottle, imitating my brother's swagger and snarl. "I'm a teenage assassin executing some fun in the cult of the life of crime, now."  
"I'd really hate to say it, but I told you so, so shut your mouth before I shoot you down ol' boy," Jimmy picked it up while I danced around the room. "Welcome to the club and give me some blood. I'm the resident leader of the lost and found."

We saluted each other with our bottles and drank deeply, each of us draining our bottle. He grabbed me by the waist and we both started dancing around while finishing the song, screaming it at the top of our lungs.

"It's comedy and tragedy. It's St. Jimmy and that's my naaaaaaaaame… AND DON'T YOU FUCKING WEAR IT OUT!!!"

Jimmy giggled as he collapsed to the floor. I laughed at him, but my attention was taken by someone walking in front of our house. They were walking kinda slow, which set off my paranoia immediately. He was wearing all black, another suspicious sign.

Lately, Jimmy had had a lot more people after him than usual. His enemies had become a lot more bold, much more desperate in their attempts to kill the King of the Streets. Though J had refused to hire bodyguards, saying it was the coward's way out, we were both constantly on the lookout for would-be assassins.

My eyes widened and I froze when I saw the guy's face.

"J-Jimmy…" I said faintly, immediately starting to shake.

Our eyes met through the window, and he smirked. A horrible, malicious smirk that made me feel as if I'd just been splashed with ice-cold water. A smirk that turned a handsome face into the picture of evil.

My eyes widened to the size of large platters when I saw what he tauntingly held up.

"JIMMY, GET DOWN!" I shrieked as Billie threw the heart grenade through the window.

Jimmy's head whipped around so he could look at me-

KABOOM


	11. The Hunt

**Author's Note**: So... this chapter is kind of a filler to get from the KERBOOM to what happens when Jimmy gets back from hunting Billie down. I kinda hate this chapter. So I'm just posting it to get it out of the way, mkie?

* * *

[Jimmy's POV]

"Ow," I groaned, muttering curses to myself as I pushed a ceiling beam off of me. "Fucking bastard…"

I stood and looked around, growling to see that the little asswipe had completely decimated Roxie and A's house. It was just a pile of rubble now, with the occasional spark coming from destroyed wires. I clenched my fists, snarling; I was going to find that little motherfucker, and when I was done, no one would know who the corpse was.

I carefully extricated Roxie from the rubble, and when I saw her, my temper exploded. She was shaking violently, her eyes darting in all directions. Her breathing was coming so quickly she was practically hyperventilating.

"Fuck," I hissed before grabbing my cell phone and slamming in a number. "Shanks, it's me. Get your ass back here right the fuck now. I don't care if you're waiting on a delivery, I'll send someone else to pick it up. You had better be here before the hour is up."

I slammed the phone shut and turned to Roxie. Part of me wanted to comfort her, but the majority of me just wanted to kill somebody.

"Roxie, stay here. That's an order," I snapped. "Shanks will be home to take care of you soon, and you're gonna wait for him right here."  
"N-No!" she yelped. "J, d-don't go! Don't l-leave me here a-all alone!"  
"Shanks will be here," I said. "I'm gonna go find the gutless motherfucker."

Without another word, I stalked off, almost ripping my gun out of my pocket. When I was far enough away from the house that I knew Roxie couldn't see me, I broke into a sprint. I'd found that my new powers included a few fun tricks like being able to run at a speed of 120 miles an hour. It only took me ten minutes to reach the West Side, and from there it would just be a simple matter of tracking the little bastard.

I wanted to torture the fucker. Not so much because he'd tried to kill my little sister; more because he'd tried to fuck with me. Me. Saint fucking Jimmy. He thought he could stand up against me? The little shit had another fucking thing coming, and I was gonna make sure he learned his lesson.

If you want to live, you don't piss me off.

Pity he wouldn't live long enough to have a second chance at applying that lesson.

I smirked as the sweet, sweet rage coursed through my veins. How had I lived so long without this? I loved how this felt; this adrenaline high, this predatory feeling. I lived for this feeling. I never wanted to be without it again.

* * *

[Roxie's POV]

I sat in a sort of cave formed from a pile of rubble that used to be my house. My back was pressed against a section of wall, my arms were wrapped around myself, and I rocked back and forth, trying to hold myself together.

It wasn't working. I had fallen headlong into a full-blown panic attack the moment Jimmy left my sight. I had curled into the smallest ball possible and tried to hide as much as I could, in case Billie came back. I was terrified that he was going to come and kill me.

"Roxie!"

I cowered back into the wall, whimpering. Oh god, he was back… please let my death come quickly…

"ROXIE!!"

My brow furrowed in confusion. Odd… Billie's voice sounded so much like A's…

"Roxie!"

I tried to struggle as he grabbed me and dragged me out into the light, but I couldn't fight him off. In another moment, I was in his arms, my face pressed into his chest, and I was sobbing.

"Oh my god, Armatage… He… he came back, he… He had a… He tried to…" I babbled, clinging to him.  
"Shhh, calm down, Rox," A murmured. "I've got you, it's okay. He's not gonna touch you, I promise."

But calming down wasn't possible. I was still too deep in the panic attack to even think of getting out. I couldn't breathe, my thoughts were racing so much I was dizzy, and I was still terrified.

"Roxie!" A said, more urgently this time, shaking me a bit. "Rox, calm down! Breathe!"  
"I can't," I sobbed.  
"You really think I'm gonna let him hurt you?" he demanded.  
"A, he blew up our fucking house!" I shrieked. "I saw him! He was…" I sobbed again. "Oh god, he looked so evil… Like, he was _happy_ that he was doing this. He wanted us dead!"  
"But he didn't kill you!" A said. "You're still alive, Rox! And he's gone! He's not coming back!"  
"That's what you said last time! And guess what? You were wrong!!" I yelled.

SMACK

I gripped my cheek in shock, but A slapping me had knocked me out of the panic attack. He drew a deep breath and wrapped his arms around me.

"I'm sorry about that," he said softly. "But I had to calm you down before you passed out."  
I drew a long, shaky breath, huddling into his chest. "I'm scared, A. He's not gonna stop until I'm dead."  
"I'm not gonna let him hurt you again, Rox, I promise," A said.

I didn't say anything, but I didn't believe him. Billie had already hurt me too many times. A had never been there when he struck. So how could A promise me something like that?

No. I was alone. Nobody would be able to protect me from Billie. It was up to me.


	12. Welcome Home

**Author's Note**: Yeah, so... this is the chapter where everything goes to shit, really. Tis the beginning of the end for our heroine and her brother. Looking back, I almost wish that I had written in a POV where Jimmy loses his mind and goes insane, but... at the same time, I like how Rox gets blindsighted by it. Enjoy the evil!

* * *

It had been three weeks since Jimmy left to go find Billie. I was by now frantic- why hadn't J returned? Surely it couldn't have been that difficult to find him and punish him- unless J were torturing him, which seemed unlikely because J never worked like that. So if he had indeed found Billie, what was taking him so long to return?

I tried to rationalize my fears. Maybe Billie had moved out of the Bay area, so J had had to track him north or south. Maybe Billie had been surrounded by people for a while, so J had had to wait until he could get him alone. Maybe it had taken a couple of days to finish Billie off. And maybe after it was done, J had stopped on the way home for a celebratory drug binge. Maybe he was recovering from the crash and withdrawl, and that was why he wasn't home yet.

Or maybe… maybe J had abandoned me, as I had been afraid would happen since he received his goddamned powers.

I tried to stifle that thought. Jimmy was my brother. He was flawed, yeah, but he loved me. He'd always told me that nothing except his death would prevent him from protecting me. He'd sworn to me that he wouldn't abandon me, as our mother had after our father's death. I had counted on him always being there.

But even if J had temporarily forgotten about me, I still had Armatage. Yeah, he'd been irritated at me lately for my mental breakdown, but he loved me. We had found another house to live in, we were still together, we wanted a family… Even if Jimmy did leave me, at least I had him.

Why then was I so afraid?

I was alone in the house that afternoon. Armatage had gone to Misery to get a shipment of drugs from Mr. Whirly, and he wouldn't be back until late. I was keeping myself busy with housework- I'd found that if I focused absolutely and completely on the task of doing dishes, or vacuuming, I could keep myself from thinking about Billie coming back to kill me, or about Jimmy.

I jumped when I heard the front door slam open. There was no way it could be A; it was only 2. Gulping, I grabbed the gun that Armatage kept loaded in the living room, took it off safety, and walked to the door.

"Jimmy!" I exclaimed, lowering the gun in relief.

I rushed towards him, but the look in his eyes made me stop dead, in confusion and in fear.

I'd seen Jimmy angry plenty of times. When it happened, especially now that he had his powers, his eyes would darken from green to nearly black, and the snarl on his face was a look the Devil himself would bow to. He looked absolutely terrifying. I'd never before seen that look focused on me. I swallowed hard; apparently the protection I'd had from the full force of his anger had been rescinded.

"J-Jimmy?" I asked, hardly able to force the word past the lump in my throat.  
"I just wasted three weeks of my life trying to find your little boyfriend," he snarled.  
My brow furrowed. "A?"  
"No, not Shanks, you dumb fuck," he glared. "Armstrong."  
Now thoroughly afraid, I took a step back. "Y-You mean you didn't find him?"  
"No," he said, walking towards me. "And I don't know why the fuck I wasted my goddamn time to try to solve your little problem for you."  
"What?" I breathed.  
J glared at me, advancing and gripping my shoulders. "Grow up, little girl," he snarled, giving me a hard shake. "This is the fucking real world, and shit happens. It's not my fucking job to take care of you. You're not a baby anymore. Grow up and learn to take care of yourself. It's your own damn fault that Armstrong decided to pick on you, anyways. If you weren't so fucking weak, he never would've bothered you."  
"J- J, stop!" I choked out while he shook me.  
"Not till I knock some sense into you!" he growled.  
"Jimmy, I'm pregnant!"

He stopped then, but I wished I hadn't blurted out the news. His eyes narrowed, and I swore I saw fire in his gaze as he glared at me. I bit my lip, wrapping my arms around my torso.

"What did you say?" he asked, his voice dangerously low.  
I drew a shaky breath. "I said, I'm pregnant."

I'd tried to deny that little fact to myself. I was only sixteen; I was too fucking young to be somebody's mother. But it had been two months, and I could no longer argue with myself. I was definitely pregnant; the hard stomach and the constant nausea confirmed what the Pregnancy Test Stick of Dooooom had told me.

I'd known Jimmy would not be best pleased by this information. But he did me one better than I'd been expecting.

"WHAT?!" he bellowed. "You stupid whore! What'd you have to go and do _that_ for?!"  
"It wasn't like I was trying!" I yelled back. "It just happened! You could be happy for me!"  
"Happy?!" J screamed. "My sister's a fucking whore, and you expect me to be _happy_ about it?!?"  
"I'm not a whore! Jesus, Jimmy, what the fuck is the matter with you?!"  
"What's the matter with _me_?! What's the matter with _you_?!?" J asked.

Jimmy has never, ever hit me. So I was completely unprepared when his fist came flying and hit me in the jaw. I spun around and hit the ground, stunned. Jimmy spat on me, then turned on his heel and left. I watched him go with tears in my eyes, somehow sensing that this was the last time I would ever see my beloved older brother.

"Goodbye, Jimmy," I whispered, before breaking down in tears.

* * *

[Shanks' POV]  
The second I saw Jimmy, I knew I was in deep shit.

He had apparently come to Misery with the sole purpose of finding me, which he did, at the 7/11. His hands were balled into fists, and if looks could kill, his glare would have destroyed me on a subatomic level.

I cleared my throat, trying not to be worried as the other dealers fell back in fear. "Hey, Jimmy," I said in a would-be casual voice. "What brings you here?"  
"You fucking bastard," he snarled.

I was on the ground before I knew what was happening, and Jimmy was beating the crap out of me. I defended myself the best I could, but I was no match for his Ashurian magic. It was about the time he threw the first fireball at me that I realized that his powers had driven him insane. I felt a pang of sorrow; I prayed Roxie never found out about this. The last thing I needed was for this information to reach her; it would be the straw that broke her fragile mental sanity.

"You went and got my sister pregnant?!" he screamed.  
I paled, staring at him, while the other dealers stared at me in shock. "Wh-What?!"  
"My sister," J snarled, "just informed me that she's fucking pregnant, Richardson."

I flinched upon hearing my real surname, which I'd done my damnedest to forget. Jimmy more than anyone understood wanting to forget the life we'd left behind to come here, so if he was calling me by my real name, I was in more trouble than I'd thought.

"She's pregnant?" I asked, in complete shock.  
J scoffed. "Don't pretend you didn't know."  
"I didn't!" I protested.  
"Whatever you say, Jakob," J snarled.

I growled. My real name is Jakob Adam Richardson, but I really try not to let people know that. I haven't had any contact with anyone in my family for a year now- the only one I'd talked to since I was 12 was my little sister Cara, but even she had abandoned me, in favor of her reject friends, Billie Joe Armstrong, Mike Pritchard and Frank Wright.

Had it been anyone but an insane, furious Jimmy calling me by my real name, I would have killed them. But somehow, I figured that if I made a move to hit J, I'd be the one dead.

"If you really didn't know, you might want to have a chat with my whore of a sister," he snarled. "If it's not yours, I'd bet it's Armstrong's."

Before I had a chance to argue, J punched me again and stormed off to go do God only knows what.

I considered going after him, but I realized I had a more pressing problem waiting for me at home. Roxie had some serious explaining to do…

* * *

[Billie's POV]  
I walked towards Tight Wad Hill, enjoying the silence of the night. It was 2 am- the best time to go up to the Hill, because there's nobody there. I usually go up there to think, or just to sit when I'm plagued with insomnia.

I got to the top of the hill, and was just about to step out of the trees when I saw a figure I instantly recognized. I considered going over and having more fun with her, but the shaking of her shoulders persuaded me to stay where I was and just watch her.

Roxie was crying. Not just a tear or two; she was hardcore sobbing her heart out. She was trying to keep quiet, I could tell, and her arms were wrapped around herself as if she were trying to keep herself from breaking apart.

I'd walked by her house earlier that afternoon, and I'd heard her arguing with her brother. So I knew she was pregnant, and that Jimmy wasn't happy about it. As I watched her, I felt an unexpected pang in my heart. I didn't really regret what I'd done, especially not what I'd done to Jimmy. No, I was still damn proud that I'd bested him, and taught them both a lesson. But it made me feel really guilty to see her crying like this. I'd never meant to rip her family apart, but it looked like that's exactly what I'd done.

I thought about going over to comfort her, then almost laughed at the idea. I was the last person in the world she'd ever accept comfort from. I'd heard from other dealers that she was absolutely terrified of me, that she lived in fear of my return. I'd done what I'd wanted to; I'd broken her independence, her confidence. But it was a hollow victory, considering I'd destroyed her in the process.

I couldn't stand to stay there and watch the product of my interferance, but my feet wouldn't move, and my mind commanded me to stay still and look at her, to acknowledge what I had done. I had broken an innocent girl, and all for no reason at all other than I'd wanted some fun. I had shattered her feeling of safety, I had turned her brother against her, I had caused her to be all alone in the world. Every tear she shed was, in some way, my fault.

I had gone way too fucking far. But there was nothing I could do to fix what I had done. I was helpless to finish what I'd started; all I could do was stand and watch her, to be faced with the proof of what I'd done to her.

Slowly, her head came up, and I saw the fear in her eyes. "H-Hello?" she called softly, looking around wildly. My heart wrenched with the thought that she probably thought I was watching her, that I'd come to hurt her some more. "Who's there?" she demanded, trying to sound brave.

I bit hard on my lip and turned, leaving silently, my entire chest aching with the pathetic sight of the happy, confident, independent Roxie, reduced to this shaking, quivering mass of fear.

What had I done?


	13. Goodbye

**Author's Note**: Continuing on with the evil... I didn't really do a good job of explaining why Shanks does what he does in this chapter. The explanation is a very dangerous combination of high stress and high drug intake and shock and Roxie being impetuous as usual. On that note, I _adore_ Roxie's POV. I just like the structuring, it makes me happy. Enjoy!

* * *

[Shanks' POV]  
When I got home, it took me all of three seconds to realize that Roxie wasn't in the house. I sighed, exasperated. I was sore, and angry, and I needed to talk to her now. I rubbed my face, thinking. If I were Roxie, where would I go at 3 am?

Following a hunch, I started off for Tight Wad Hill, my anger and desperation to talk to Roxie speeding the trip. When I reached the top of the hill, I found her sitting on the ground, staring desolately over the city.

"Is it true?" I croaked out.

Damn, I hadn't meant to just blurt it out. Oh well.

She jumped at the sound of my voice, and quickly stood and spun around to face me. Her eyes closed, and for a second she looked sick. My gaze traveled down to her stomach. Was it my imagination, or was there a bump there?

"Is it true?" I repeated, my voice stronger this time.  
"Is what true?" she asked.  
My eyes narrowed. "Don't play games with me, Roxanne. Are you really pregnant?"

She swallowed hard, then nodded slowly. I swore softly and kicked the ground, turning and walking off a ways. I drew a couple of deep breaths to control my anger, then turned to face her again.

"So is it mine? Or do you not know that?" I asked harshly.  
She paled. "What? A, of course it's yours-"  
"I'm not so sure," I said.  
She stared at me. "You think I cheated on you?"  
"I think it's a damn good possibility, yeah," I answered.  
She glared at me, folding her arms. "Is that really what you think of me? You think I'd fucking cheat on you, after all you've done for me?"  
"All I've done for you," I repeated. "Yeah, let's talk about that, shall we? I've been taking damn good care of you, even though you've been a wreck for months. I stood by you when you started having panic attacks, and when you started drinking. Hell, I didn't say anything to Jimmy when you started doing drugs. Yeah, I know about that too," I nodded as she paled further. "I know exactly what the fuck you've been taking, and how much of it. And I didn't say anything. I've been taking care of you for months, and you don't even care enough to tell me you've been fucking some other guy?!"  
"I haven't been fucking anyone else, Shanks!" she exclaimed.  
"Can you prove it?" I snarled.  
She glared, and for a second she was the Roxie I remembered. "I don't have to prove a damn thing to you. I haven't cheated on you, but even if I do give you proof, you won't believe it. You're acting exactly like my brother-" her voice cracked there, and I felt a pang of guilt, "and I don't have to put up with this shit."  
I glared. "Yeah, let's talk about your brother, Rox. Why the fuck did you have to go and rile him up like that?"  
"Excuse me?!" she exclaimed. "I didn't do a damn thing, Richardson. He came to me angry as fuck."  
"And you just got him more pissed off," I retorted. "What'd you do, tell him you fucked Armstrong?"

She paled dramatically, and I fought back a wince at the low blow I'd just dealt her.

"I don't have to put up with this," she snarled.  
She started walking off, and I grabbed for her arm. "Where do you think you're going?"  
She shook me off. "I'm leaving. Come find me when you're ready to act like an adult."

So saying, she stalked away from me, never once looking back.

* * *

I had expected A to follow me, to continue arguing.

He didn't.

Undaunted, I headed through town, towards the warehouses. They were a well-known hang-out place for the top-tier dealers. I figured that he would come find me there when he'd cooled down.

He didn't.

I waited there for him all night. I didn't sleep at all; just paced around the room where I'd barricaded myself, my mind spinning. When it became clear that Shanks wasn't coming that night, I let myself start trying to work through everything that had happened to me.

Jimmy was gone. He had deserted me, and I knew it. The work the powers had started doing on him was completed, and he was someone completely different from the Jimmy O'Connell I'd known. James Eugene O'Connell was dead now, as dead as if he'd been murdered. All that was left now was St. Jimmy. I would never see my brother again; even if I ran into him on the street, all I would see would be the Ashurian saint.

The death of my brother- for that was how I'd always think of it- killed a large part of me, as well. Jimmy had been my everything for six years, and I was in an endless amount of pain that he'd been taken from me. It was as if someone had ripped out a piece of my heart, and all I was left with was the ache.

_Goodbye, Jimmy…_

Armatage had betrayed me. He actually believed that I had done something so low as to cheat on him, with Billie Joe Armstrong of all people. He thought I would actually sleep with my enemy, the guy who had utterly destroyed me.

_Goodbye Armatage…_

That thought brought back the painful accusations Shanks had thrown at me. He'd made it clear that he thought I was no better than any of the worthless rejects who lived here. Was that really true?

My memories of the recent past were hazy with a drug- and booze-infected fog. That thought alone frightened me; I hadn't thought my drug use had gotten that serious. But one look into the mirror that hung on the wall told me everything he'd said was true.

I'd never thought myself especially pretty, but I looked hideous now. My hair was limp and tangled, as if it hadn't been brushed in weeks (which it hadn't). My skin was almost translucently pale, and ashy and dry to boot. The bags under my eyes reached to my cheekbones, which were almost grotesquely exaggerated due to my extreme emaciation. My eyes looked blurry to me, which I realized was due to the alcohol. My arms were riddled with tract marks and self-inflicted cuts and scars.

_Goodbye Roxie…_

I was just as dead as Jimmy was. I wasn't Roxie O'Connell anymore; I was something, someone else. I had killed myself with running from my pain as surely as Jimmy had killed himself with his quest for power. I could no longer call myself Roxie Blake. I had formed a new identity, and I needed a new name to boot. No longer Roxie; I was Riley Black now, and I was nothing more than a shadow.

A feeling of panic flared in my chest. I had to get out of here. I had to escape the Streets before they ate me alive.

_Goodbye life…_

With a hoarse, panicked scream, I flew out of the warehouse, running as fast as I possibly could. I stopped only to grab a gun, and then I was sprinting through the streets of the SOS as fast as my feet could take me. My lungs screamed and my muscles cried, but I pushed myself until I could run no further.

I hurled myself to the ground of Suicide Bay, sobbing as hard as I ever had in my life. I felt myself dying to this place, and knew I could never go back. My life here was over. All that was left was the final separation.

_Goodbye everything._

I glanced at the gun, almost mesmerized by the beauty of the lethal metal in the moonlight. I picked it up, sniffing, feeling its weight- both real and imagined- in my hand. I placed it against my temple, my finger on the trigger. I looked out over the water, feeling at peace for the first time since I came here.

I closed my eyes, flung the gun away from myself, and hurled myself off the cliff (appropriately named The Final Drop), diving into the water 50 feet below.


	14. Dear You, Love Me

**Author's Note**: This chapter basically got written as a way for me to tie up the loose ends and fit my storyline in with Sara's. While I admit that it makes more sense if you've read the Cara Saga [and especially the two-part finale], I hope that this ties everything up for you. This is _Tales From Another Broken Home_, signing off!

* * *

_The rest of the story you know._

_Billie and Cara got married out of high school, and they, Mike and Tre moved into a house together. Eventually they were joined by Mike's girlfriend Michelle, and Tre's girlfriend Karly. Michelle became evil, and after her death started haunting Mike and Cara (who realized just after Cara and Billie's wedding that they had always had a thing for each other, oh me oh my). Karly died to save the others and bring Michelle down for good, and became a herald of sorts, coming back in ghost form to give the gang information when they needed it._

_Over the next ten years, every one of them went evil at least once (usually more than once), either hearing a voice in their head that ordered them to wreak havoc and chaos on everyone, or their suppressed anger and fear would drive them temporarily insane. Some highlights:_

_- Billie went insane and turned on his wife.  
- Cara was thrown into an asylum (by Billie).  
- Cara got help in escaping from said asylum by a lunatic who then escaped with the intention of killing her (which he might have done, I don't remember, but if he succeeded it wasn't for long because Cara refuses to die).  
- Cara and Billie realized that their relationship would never work (hard to keep love alive when you're trying to kill each other). Cara and Mike started dating, and Billie started dating Tre (after ceasing to be evil).  
- Mike went insane (Cara didn't take too kindly to that)._

_It was around this point that Mike met Jimmy (again, though nobody remembered having met before), and brought him to meet the rest of the gang. Jimmy appeared to have mastered his powers, and for a while everything seemed to be okay. He met a woman named Whatsername, and eventually they had a child together, a son named Tunny. But, as Billie once said, "the innocent can never last."_

_Jimmy never could quite control his powers, and things got so bad that Whatsername eventually left him, taking Tunny with her. For six years, Jimmy was a complete and utter wreck. He disappeared one day, and Whatsername returned to the gang. Kris soon joined the party, and everything seemed okay until the gang realized that Jimmy was up to no good again. In the course of that merry chain of events, he killed Billie._

_That's where I came back into the picture. In killing Billie (again), Jimmy had gotten himself killed (again), and he had appointed me his heir apparent in finishing his work of destroying the gang. He awoke powers within me, and I became the Patron Saint of the Apocalypse. No longer could I stay invisible in the LOMB, hiding behind the identity I'd created; now I had to reclaim my true identity, return to the Bay, and finish Jimmy's work._

_I didn't realize that was my destiny, at first. I only knew that I had to find these people. I brought Billie back to life, rationalizing that since I had the powers, I might as well do some good with them. Somehow, that night we ended up kissing (twice), and I realized that I had to kill them all. Which I started to do, by killing Billie. But I ended up feeling way too fucking guilty to finish the job. So instead, I brought Billie back to life, accepted the fact that I would face eternal damnation for defying my brother, and started using my powers for good._

_Jimmy found a way to come back (he always did that), and went about punishing me for my disobedience. He recruited Tre's help by tricking Tre into thinking that no one ever took him seriously; the anger was enough to turn Tre evil. Tre began his revenge by punishing Billie (giving him a dose of heroin large enough to kill him, I think it was- that was a new one for us). I went to save him after Tre brought Billie to Jimmy, and then Jimmy tortured both Billie and me, knowing that our admissions of loving each other would end up killing us both. Thankfully, Karly called in a favor, and Billie was brought back to life just in time to keep me from going insane with grief._

_That's another thing I should mention; everyone in the gang has died more than should ever be allowed. It's a very bad habit of ours._

_Anyways, it was just after Billie was brought back that I remembered (or rather, was led by Jimmy to remember) exactly what had happened between Billie and me when we were teenagers. I'd spent years repressing the memories, and had succeeded so well that when I met the gang, I hadn't remembered Billie at all. Surprisingly, I was just a little bit angry about it all, and I took that anger out on Billie, who had also remembered what he'd done. My anger caused him to go insane (again), and he in turn punished me. He then turned on Tunny, who was only six years old, making him just as evil as his father had been._

_I swear, my family is cursed when it comes to powers. We've all been driven evil by our magic at least once. Must be a defective gene._

_While all that was going on, Jimmy belatedly developed some feelings- for Cara, disturbing though that is. Feelings that threw his powers even further out of balance- a fact that threatened all existance, since Jimmy's powers were given to him for one purpose: to destroy. If he no longer wished to destroy, his powers would simply do it for him._

_Which is what nearly happened. Everyone in the gang was pulled apart; every relationship was broken; everyone was driven to the breaking point. Tre, having finally realized what happened to him after he caused the death of Ramona, his daughter by Karly, stopped being evil and settled down for an eternity of punishment in limbo for what he'd done. Cara and Mike hated each other; Mike went off to drugs and whores, Cara turned to drugs, Jimmy's company (ew), and Shanks (who she didn't remember as her brother for reasons I don't remember). My powers had turned me evil (for real this time), and I went to rule an alternate dimension known as 86, a domain created by my brother during one of the many times his powers ran amok. Little Tunny was being driven insane by his powers (like father, like son) and went to live in another alternate dimension._

_It was the Armageddon. Or the Apocalypse. Or, if you prefer, the Armapocalypse. Or maybe the Armageddalypse. Or the Armapocalyptigeddon. Yeah, I like that one._

_Sorry, I got distracted. Anyways…_

_At the last minute, when we were surrounded by fire and about to die, we finally all came to our senses. Mike, Cara and Billie, who were trapped in 86, finally stopped all their fighting when they were nearly killed by a massive earthquake. Tre, Ramona, Whatsername, Tunny and I (after dying again and ceasing to be evil), who were stuck in a burning house, resolved our various problems and just laughed as the flames came closer. None of us had anything to worry about anymore; it was all over. Nothing mattered, except that we would finally be delivered from our separate hells._

_We were saved at the last minute by Sky, another Patron Saint, who'd been sent by Karly to guard us all. She gave up her powers, which were used to reverse everything Jimmy had done, coincidentally destroying Jimmy in the process and restoring our world to us. When we woke up, it took us about five seconds to realize that we weren't dead, but that everything was, in fact, over._

_After that, things started to draw towards their inevitable conclusion. Mike and Cara finally resolved their differences, forgave one another, and got married (after Cara and Billie finalized their divorce). Tre and Sky got together, eventually having a son they named Frankito. Whatsername had Tunny restored to her. Kris despaired of everybody while sitting on Eggbert the couch and smoking an ungodly amount of pot. And somehow- still not sure how- Billie managed to make me forgive him for everything he'd ever done to me, and we wound up married._

_So why did I sit down and write these 60 pages, explaining a very long and very complicated history to you? Well-_

"Roxieeeeeee!"

Roxie looked up from the laptop she'd been intently staring at for the last two hours, then laughed to see Billie covered in baby powder and lotion.

"I thought Cara taught you how to change the baby's diaper!" she laughed.  
Billie pouted. "It's complicated! And Jake wiggles a lot!"  
Roxie sighed. "Go find Sky and make her do it, I'm almost done with this."

While Billie skipped off singing Blitzkrieg Bop at the top of his lungs, Roxie turned back to the laptop, shaking her head.

_Well, about a year ago, Cara started writing down her life's story. Everyone else in the gang added to it, writing their own perspectives and memories, until we had created a sprawling, six-part epic saga that detailed our lives, and how we had repeatedly saved the world without its knowing it. I had to add this story, because I'm the only one who remembers Jimmy's history, the only one who could tell this part of the tale._

_I guess that under normal circumstances, our history wouldn't matter. But as I'm sure you know by now, Joey, your family isn't normal. Some fucked-up Power That Is appointed us as the guardians and warriors of this world, and it's our job to protect it from all the evil bastards that might try to cause the next Apocalypse._

_The world is quiet now, and I think it's safe to say that our job is finished. But there's another generation of guardians, all with this blessing and curse that is our magic in your veins, growing up in this house- Ramona, Frankito, Tunny, you, and your little brother Jakob. And all of us are in agreement that if you don't know our history, and don't understand our sacrifices and mistakes, you won't be prepared when it's your turn to fight (and yes, you will eventually have to fight; there's always evil in the world, and despite what your father would like to believe, we won't be around forever)._

_And I can't very well let you fail. You and your brother are half O'Connell; it's in your blood to protect what you love. That's your legacy from your uncle, and I'll be damned if I let you forget the one good thing he left us._


End file.
